The Beast
by Elysium94
Summary: Before the hunt for Saren and the threat of the Reapers, there is the story of Andrew Hudson. Beginning as just another human trying to make his way in an unfamiliar and dangerous galaxy, Hudson faces horrors that change him from an innocent victim into a ruthless agent of Cerberus. And the man who may herald the end of humanity. Set as a semi-prequel to Two Against the Galaxy.
1. Brother and Sister

**Author's Note: Hey, guys. Hope you enjoy this introductory chapter to our two leads. I was inspired by the kickass author AmityN7 to model the two leads after real life actors, Viggo Mortensen and Jenna-Louise Coleman.**

 **This story is significantly darker than my other ongoing story, 'Two Against the Galaxy' and takes place in the same continuity. Eventually they will cross over. Enjoy!**

* * *

 ** _October 3, 2165_**

When Andrew Hudson woke up, the sun was already shining in through his window. He looked outside and smiled at the view of the farm fields outside, rippling from a slight breeze. Andrew stared at the fields and felt himself beginning to doze off again before his eyes shot open again. Turning over towards the nightstand, Andrew looked at the clock next to his bed. _7:45_. "Oh boy…" He leapt out of bed and raced for the bathroom. Splashing his face with cold water Andrew looked in the mirror.

Andrew was a tall, lean man in his early thirties. His untidy hair was a light brown color, almost blond; and his eyes were an icy blue. Taking a razor, Andrew made short work of the stubble emerging on his chin. "Jolene? Are you up?" he shouted. A dull thud downstairs caused him to crack a smile. Yes, his clumsy little sister was up all right. Once he was done freshening up Andrew returned to his room and dressed in his best suit. The dark grey and maroon outfit wasn't much next to the kind worn by men like President Aguilar, but it was good enough.

He rushed down stairs to the kitchen, where Jolene was already fixing breakfast for both of them. She was a good deal shorter than her brother, and three years younger. Jolene had an impish, round face and her darker colored hair was pulled back into a ponytail. "There you are! I've got breakfast taken care of." Andrew pointed at the clock on the wall. "Let's hurry up, Jolene. We don't want to be late for the big interview." Her eyes darted to the clock and back. "Oh God, is it today? I'm sorry I didn't wake you up sooner, I…" Andrew rustled her hair playfully. "It's fine. _I_ should have set an alarm." Once she was done yelling at him for messing with her hair Andrew helped Jolene finish preparing a small serving of eggs.

Once finished Andrew let Jolene go back to her room to change into formal wear of her own. "So just to be clear," she said from behind her bedroom door, "This school we're going to: its garden doesn't have any roses right?" Andrew shook his head. "No roses." Jolene's sigh of relief was almost hilarious. He sat down and turned on a vidscreen in their living room.

" ** _And in other news, humanity has finally been granted an embassy on the Citadel. There is still no word on whether the Council will allow a human to join them, but we're remaining optimistic. We've come a long way, and if any others are watching; know that we are here to stay. This is Kate Larson, reporting for Westerlund News…_** " Jolene turned off the screen in annoyance. "Why are you still watching that shit, Andrew? You know us poor humans aren't getting any sympathy from the Council any time soon." Walking to the door Andrew replied, "Because this is important, Jolene. Things are hard for the Alliance right now, but we're becoming more important as a species every day. Soon we won't _need_ any sympathy."

Jolene smiled but didn't say anything. Instead the two walked outside and were greeted with a bright, beautiful day. It was only yesterday that Andrew and Jolene arrived on the colony planet, and so far it was making a good first impression. The sky was a shade of blue just like Earth's, and there was potential farmland in every direction for as far as they could see. On either side of their own house, a line of other buildings stretched for a mile or two before reaching a factory for processing grain. Farming was the main purpose of the colony, but Andrew wasn't here to join the labor force.

Getting into the skycar, the siblings flew away from the factory towards the center of the colony. When reaching their destination Andrew parked outside of an elementary school. "Alright. Relax, Jolene," he said tersely, noticing his sister tapping her foot. She nodded impatiently. "I know, I know. I'm just excited." Andrew rested his hand on Jolene's knee reassuringly, and she stopped. "Me too." He and Jolene stepped out of the skycar and walked to the front door of the school together and he heard her murmuring, "You're okay, Jolene. Just a couple of blue-collar kids headed for new jobs. You're okay." Before they stepped into the lobby Andrew looked up at the sign above.

 **MINDOIR HIGH SCHOOL**


	2. Getting To Know You

After waiting for twenty minutes, Andrew sighed in relief he heard his and Jolene's names called at the front desk.

"Well, we're up." Andrew walked over to the desk where a short, balding man was waiting for him. "Hello, my name is Willard. Principal Farris is waiting for you." Willard looked like he was in his fifties, and was wearing glasses. Strange. Most people Andrew knew had already gotten some form of gene therapy to help with eye conditions and the like. Willard looked up from his notes and Andrew realized he was staring. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't stare like that…"

Willard shook his head. "Don't bother. I'm used to it." Andrew smiled sheepishly. But his grin vanished when Jolene asked, "So if you don't' mind me asking, why do you still wear glasses?" Andrew glared at his sister, and her cheeks turned a deep red. "Glad somebody finally asked," Willard replied to Andrew's surprise. "Gene therapy's all the rage these days, but my folks and I never got around to it. This is just who I am," he said while tapping his glasses. "I'm not ashamed."

Humbled, Andrew nodded respectfully. Suddenly, Willard looked down at his notes and slapped himself on the forehead. "Oh! I forgot, you're here to see the principal." He directed the siblings to a hallway behind him. "Ms. Hudson, you're interview is to the right, outside in the gardens. And yours is to the left Mr. Hudson." This was it. Andrew walked through the lobby to the high school's faculty center.

Before parting ways, Andrew hugged Jolene. "Remember, just be yourself." She smiled and answered, "It'll be enough." Even after all these years, their dad's in-joke had stuck. His little sister turned and walked out to the school's gardens while Andrew entered the office of Principal Farris.

Farris was a dark-haired woman dressed in a grey and black dress. She was already facing the door when Andrew walked in the room, obviously expecting him. Shook his hand Farris said, "Welcome to Mindoir, Mr. Hudson." The principal scrolled down the datapad at her desk while he sat down. "You've come a long way," Farris continued in what sounded like an Eastern European accent.

"Your application for a teaching position here says that you was born on Earth. What made you choose to come all the way out here?" Andrew smiled at Farris' approach. Getting right down to business. "I've wanted to be a teacher for some time. My dad Leon was a blue-collar worker, but he wanted something better for my sister and I. Being a teacher back on Earth could have worked out fine but…" Andrew looked out a window and saw some of the students walking to their classes.

"After everything that's happened; the discovery on Mars, First Contact and the whole galaxy opening up, kids out here in the colonies need all the help they can get." Farris seemed to think about everything he had said before responding. "That's very noble, Mr. Hudson. Tell me more about yourself. Andrew leaned back and sighed deeply.

"Oh, we're going back a while now. My mother, Cara, was a cashier for a restaurant. I can't remember what it was called, to be honest. She met my dad back in 2129, and I was born in 2133. Three years after _that_ , Jolene was born." Farris peered at the datapad. "Yes, your sister. Why did she want to come, and what subject are you thinking about teaching?"

"History of Human Civilization," Andrew replied. "From the first recorded history to First Contact. Jolene was hoping to look after the gardens your school uses for the Biology class." While the principal looked over his and Jolene's credentials, Andrew started to think over everything he had just told her. He wasn't admitting this to anyone, but leaving Earth was the hardest thing Andrew had ever done. And a part of him was afraid of what could happen to him and Jolene out here.

Every human-hating alien in the galaxy had threatened the human colonies at one point or another. But every opportunity had some risk involved, his father had told him. He just had to take a chance.

"Alright Mr. Hudson, I'm like what I see here." Farris returned her attention to Andrew and handed him her datapad. "There's the noon period, which I think works well given your sister's schedule in the garden. I'll send you a copy of our schedule, and we'll expect you here at noon in two days. First day of the semester." Relieved, Andrew shook Farris' hand again. "Thanks you so much, Ms. Farris!" She returned the gesture, "Please, call me Lena."

He laughed. "Alright. Thank you, Lena."

For the rest of the day she showed Andrew around the rest of the campus. Lena made sure that he saw every faculty building, every lecture hall, and every lab. By the time they arrived back at Lena's office Jolene was waiting for them. She was beaming, and seemed to bounce in place. "I got in," Jolene said excitedly. Andrew hugged her tightly and whispered, "Me too. I told you we'd make it"

 **Author's Note: Hooray for exposition!**

 **I thought I would devote this chapter to some more character building and giving background on our characters. After all, all good stories have to have good characters, and Andrew and Jolene's story is just starting. Also, I made a slight edit in changing the title to 'Destroyer'.**

 **I'll be back with another chapter of Two Against the Galaxy soon. In the meantime let me know what you think so far in the review section below.**


	3. As Seasons Roll On By

**Author's Note: While you're scrolling through each period, as the title suggests play Chris Cornell's "Seasons". It can add to the effect.**

* * *

 _ **August 24, 2166**_

When the bell finally sounded for the noon class, everyone was already in their seats. Almost all of the students present were human, but towards the back of the classroom were an asari and turian. Visitors who wanted firsthand experience with human culture, to help with their own studies.

At the front of the classroom the teacher made sure that the vidscreen at the front of the class was working before he addressed the class.

"Good afternoon. My name is Andrew Hudson, and I'll be your instructor this year." The boys and girls murmured 'hello' and 'good afternoon'. They didn't sound very enthusiastic, but Andrew couldn't blame them. No one was at the beginning of the year. But his eyes narrowed when he saw one student point towards the aliens in the back and whisper something rather inappropriate.

Andrew cleared his throat and said rather loudly, "I understand we have visitors here today, so let's set a good example, shall we?" To his satisfaction the girl stopped immediately and her face reddened. "All right, let's get started. Why are we here?" Andrew asked. The class stayed silent. At this point, most teenagers seemed to understand when a question was rhetorical.

"We're here because of the people that came before us." Pointing the remote in his hand to the vidscreen behind him, Andrew showed the class an illustration of the Egyptian pyramids. "Now, when people say ' _let go of the past'_ , I ask why. The past is just as important now as it always was." He changed the slide to a side-by-side comparison of the violent Crusades and the impactful March on Washington.

"By learning from our predecessors' actions," he continued, "Ours will leave a better future for our children and their children after. That's why history's such an important subject. That's why we're here." Andrew finished his opening speech and shut off the vidscreen.

Some of the students looked like they had listened to him and were eager to hear more. Others seemed quite skeptical. _Probably more interested in playing football,_ Andrew thought to himself while looking at two large athletic boys in the back row. For the rest of the fifty-minute period he made sure each student copied the schedule and knew what to expect in the curriculum well. "That's about all the time we have for today," Andrew said looking at the clock. "Make sure to have everything ready, because tomorrow we're getting ready for our first essay."

Most of the class collectively groaned as the packed their bags and left. Andrew turned to pick up his own things, but he heard a small voice mutter, "Excuse me." Turning around he saw the turian student waiting next to his desk. He looked like he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, and his mandibles were twitching meekly. "Yes?" Andrew did his best to sound polite and welcoming.

The turian offered his hand, and while Andrew shook it he said, "Hello. I'm Cyrus. First off I want to say I really liked your speech at the beginning of class. Very nice." Andrew tried to hide his self-satisfaction. "Thank you," he said gently, noticing how nervous Cyrus still appeared. Gesturing to another chair next to the desk the human sat down while his turian visitor did the same after hesitating.

Cyrus continued, "I was hoping to ask you some questions about human-alien relations." This wasn't much of a surprise to Andrew. Everyone he knew was still figuring out his or her own answer to this question. Sooner or later he expected to be asked what his opinion was, as an expert on the human side of things.

"That's a good question. Personally I don't have a problem with aliens, but of course the situation's more complicated than my personal feelings." Cyrus nodded. "The asari are cultured and very reasonable," Andrew said. "I met a Salarian while traveling from Earth to this colony, and he was friendly enough. And when it comes to turians, I'm trying not to hold a grudge over the whole Contact War." The young turian chuckled sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry about that."

Andrew waved his hand and replied, "It's fine. Neither of us did have to worry about that anyway, _we_ weren't fighting! Anyway, back to aliens; I haven't had the time to meet any drell, hanar or krogan. Though the latter make me just a little nervous."

This drew a curious squint from Cyrus. "Why?" Leaning back Andrew thought about his answer before giving it. "I guess they remind me of how aggressive and warlike humans have gotten at the worst of times. A nasty reminder of how badly we were doing just a few hundred years back." Cyrus asked, "Like the batarians?"

A frown crossed Andrew's face. "Oh boy, where do I start?" Keeping his fear concealed and ignoring Cyrus' uncomfortable look he said, "Batarians themselves are just victims of their own government obviously. That being said, they've caused a lot of trouble over the years and not just for humans. If I run into some batarian randomly I won't trust him _not_ to kill me."

This caused Cyrus to shift in his chair. "It's true, Mr. Hudson. Batarians get a bad rep for reason. But tell me, if things got better and humanity was on good terms with everyone in the galaxy, what do you think could be the next step?" The human teacher had an answer right away.

"Getting more important positions in the Citadel, maybe a Council seat one day, who knows? I have some high hopes for my race, Cyrus. We humans have a lot to give and I hope I live long enough to see our race standing with turians, asari, and the rest." Cyrus grinned. At least Andrew thought he grinned, it was still hard to tell the way turian's faces were structured.

Cyrus hoisted his bag, looking ready to leave. "That sounds nice, Mr. Hudson. Thanks for your time." Andrew shook his hand again. "You're welcome, Cyrus. Maybe we'll see each other again some time."

 ** _..._**

 ** _July 2, 2168_**

Andrew hated hot weather. It was smothering, exhausting, and was just all around unpleasant. But today, Jolene was finally opening her own nursery next door to their house and he wasn't about to miss it. Besides, on her first day his little sister probably needed some help.

"Have a nice day, Willard." Andrew opened a door for the elderly receptionist, who had bought a small basket of poppies for a friend. "Thank you, son. Tell your sister she's doing splendid work!" Giving Willard a friendly wave Andrew shut the door and took a minute to cool himself down. He had set up three fans to keep the nursery ventilated until he and Jolene could afford to install a new AC system.

He took a gulp of ice water then walked to the back of the nursery, where the gardens were. Jolene was placing a newly sprouted Japanese in a pot. "How are things coming?" His sister looked up. Jolene's cheeks were red and her hair was more frazzled than usual. Andrew heard a bell ring behind him. "Hold this," Jolene said hastily and shoved pot to him.

Andrew managed to say, "Wait, what…" before she rushed to a gate linking the garden straight to the streets. Their neighbors the Tanakas came in, looking around expectantly. "Here we go," said Jolene as she gestured for Andrew to come over. He smiled at his sister's quick thinking. The gate was for people who had already place in an order; Mr. and Mrs. Tanaka must have called Jolene earlier. Andrew brought the potted tree over to the couple quickly.

"This should tie your backyard together fine, sir." Mr. Tanaka smiled and shook Andrew's hand. "Thank you both." He escorted his and Jolene's neighbors out the front and wished them a good day before looking at the clock. 5 _:00 PM._ Closing time at last.

He switched the display on the nursery sign to _CLOSED_ while calling out, "Okay, Jolene. We're all finished up for tonight." There was no answer. "Jolene?" When she still didn't respond Andrew walked to the garden. What was going on back there?

He found Jolene sitting under a canopy with her head in her hands. At first it looked as if she was crying, so Andrew quickly sat down next to her. "Hey. You alright?" Jolene looked up at him and though her eyes were indeed watering, she was laughing. "Yeah, just exhausted," she rasped. Andrew put his arm around her and hugged Jolene tightly. He could relate.

"This was a pretty big day for us, huh? Willard from school says you did a great job. He'll probably bring in a whole group of friends tomorrow!" For this Jolene pulled away and punched him in the arm. "Don't say that! You'll jinx it, and the place will be bone dry." It was all Andrew could do not to keep teasing her. But past all the jokes he felt a swell of pride for Jolene. This was all she had wanted to do, and already he felt that they were off to a great start. Their parents would be proud.

Just then, Andrew's left wrist vibrated. He opened his new omni-tool and asked, "This is Andrew." Principal Farris' voice came through. " _Hello, Andrew? I was wondering if you could head over to Mindoir High tomorrow. There's been a new development in the curriculum, and the school district wants us to take a look._ "

Before Andrew answered, he looked over at Jolene. She had fallen asleep and was leaning against him again. She was telling the truth about being exhausted, apparently. "Sure, I'll be there tomorrow. I just need to make sure Jolene doesn't work herself to death out here." He could hear Lena chuckling on the other side of the line, even as he picked up Jolene and carried her to the car. He was going to have to order out for dinner tonight.

 ** _..._**

 ** _November 26, 2170_**

"…And we have quite a lot to celebrate this year."

The Hudsons, and their friends were all gathered around a long table and preparing themselves for the best-looking Thanksgiving feast any of them had seen in years. Andrew was standing at the front, and was giving a short speech before they all dove in.

"Mr. and Mrs. Tanaka's tree is looking better every day…" The couple each raised a glass while people around the offered congratulations.

"Willard just retired after twenty-five successful years at Mindoir High. We'll all miss him…" More congrats, and some of Andrew's guests applauded. Willard's eyes were growing wet but he was beaming.

"Mindoir High has been rated one of the best schools in pretty much any of our colonies, in no small part thanks to our own Lena Farris..." Lena was blushing but nodded appreciatively at him.

"And, of course, my sister and I are just thankful to have such great friends. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!"

The group cheered and began to dig in. Andrew was only able to finish half of what was on his plate, however, as he heard a buzzing at his front door. "Excuse me," he said and walked to the door. He opened it, expecting maybe another neighbor or someone from the school. But it wasn't either.

Standing in the doorway was a young turian dressed in dull green and decorated with several black tattoos. "I'm sorry for barging in like this, but…" The alien looked up, and his eyes widened. "Mr. Hudson?" he asked. Andrew paused looked the turian up and down. "Yes?" His visitor smiled and said excitedly, "I'm not sure if you remember me, sir. But we talked a few years back. My name is Cyrus. Cyrus Dekaron."

Andrew couldn't believe it. "Cyrus? Oh my God, how have you been?" The student shrugged. "Pretty well. I just finished my studies and I'm looking at a career in Inter-species Relations." He appeared to notice Andrew's raised eyebrow and added, "I guess you could say I got the idea from you."

"Well, whatever you've chosen to do I'm sure you'll be great at it. By the way, I had to ask; is that your car?" Cyrus looked where Andrew was pointing. On the street, a silvery skycar was sitting at a haphazard angle. "Yeah," Cyrus muttered sheepishly. "I was hoping somebody would help me. Engine trouble, you could say."

He looked surprised when Andrew gestured inside. "Why don't you come on in? We were just celebrating Thanksgiving, and it's too cold for anybody to be out here by himself. I'll help you with your car in the morning!" Cyrus looked humbled. "Why… thank you, Mr. Hudson." The two walked inside, out of the chilly night air.

But if Andrew had looked up, he would have noticed several dark shapes streaking through the sky over Mindoir.

* * *

 **Author's Note 2: We all know what's coming. Next time in 'The Beast', the story's taking a _much_ darker turn.**

 **In the meantime, check for an update soon on 'Two Against the Galaxy' and a short Star Wars story I'm working on, 'Love Lost'. Leave a review below if you like, and I'll see you next time!**


	4. Slavery

_**November 28, 2170**_

 ** _2:24 AM_**

It was the middle of the night when a tremor shook Andrew out of his bed. He fell to the floor and banged against the nightstand. Grunting in pain he rose to his feet and tried to wake himself up. "Jolene," he grunted.

Slapping his face to wake himself up, Andrew called out louder. "Jolene!"

From downstairs he could make out his sister's voice. She sounded okay, if frightened. Andrew ran to the ground level of their house where Jolene was waiting for him. She had bags under her eyes and her hair was disheveled, but didn't look injured. "What's going on?" she asked. "Is it an earthquake?"

He shook his head and frowned. "Can't be. We're not near any major fault lines." Andrew looked outside. There looked like there was commotion in the street, but it was still too dark to make out. As he tried to get a better look another tremor shook the house. This time, Andrew made out a fiery orange light from just a few houses down the street.

As well as armored figures forcing Mr. and Mrs. Tanaka to their knees in their own front yard.

Andrew's heart began racing and he gestured for Jolene to follow him. "Stay with me!" The siblings grabbed an emergency kit from a closet and made sure they both had their omni tools before making their way out the back of their house. "How's the gun? Still in good condition?" His sister opened the emergency kit and pulled out a Karpov pistol.

"Still looks good," she said worriedly and added, "What the hell is going on?" Andrew looked behind them. It didn't look like they were being followed but he didn't want to take any chances. "I don't know. But we have to get out of here." Taking the gun from his sister Andrew led her to the garage, where their skycar was parked. But as he readied to start the vehicle, someone else crashed into the garage.

The intruder wore dark red armor that looked almost black in the dim lighting. It appeared as if his eyes were glowing, but upon closer inspection Andrew saw that they were just lenses on a helmet. The attacker didn't seem to notice him and reached for Jolene, who was frozen in place.

" _You're coming with me, human._ "

Like hell she was. Andrew shouted to distract the intruder before taking several shots with his pistol. The first three bounced off the alien's shields harmlessly. Before he could register what was happening Andrew's fourth shot pierced the thin layer of armor under his shoulder and the fifth cracked his helmet.

The alien staggered back, giving Andrew time to open the skycar. "Jolene, get in!" She snapped back to reality and jumped inside. He closed the door. "Get out of here," he said. The alien was regaining his composure, and before Jolene could object Andrew yelled, " _Now!_ "

Without thinking he charged the alien, crashing into his chest and sending them both tumbling to the ground. Andrew ripped off his mask, ready to finish him off. Looking up at the human wearing a look of pure hatred was a batarian. "You're going to regret that," he growled, shoving Andrew off him roughly.

Andrew didn't have enough time to wonder what batarians were doing anywhere near a human colony, let alone attacking it. He reached for his pistol again, having dropped it when forcing the batarian away from his sister. In response his attacker pulled out a curved knife and held it to Andrew's neck, grinning menacingly. "Just try it."

Knowing that he was beaten, Andrew forced himself to stay on his knees while the batarian stood up. But the sound of his and Jolene's skycar pulling out of the garage lifted his spirits. If Jolene escaped she could reach Alliance forces on the far side of the colony. She would be safe.

But his heart fell when an explosion outside shook the garage. Andrew's heart stopped. Jolene couldn't have gotten far. Moving faster than he thought possible Andrew pushed the batarian's knife-arm out of the way and desperately punched him in the face. It was enough to send him sprawling, and Andrew raced outside.

"No…"

Jolene's skycar was on its side next to what Andrew realized was the flaming wreckage of their house. All around him he could hear gunshots and screams. Batarian aircraft were landing were landing almost everywhere he looked. It was like Andrew was in a nightmare, and he couldn't wake up. He ran to the skycar and opened the door, afraid of what he would find.

Jolene was barely conscious. Her cheek was cut by a shard of glass from the crash and she was hanging limply from the driver's seat. "Oh my God," Andrew gasped and tried to pull her out.

But something behind him pulled Andrew back and threw him to the ground. It was the same batarian from before, this time with a bleeding lip added to the injuries Andrew had given him. Clenching his fist the batarian struck him on the side of the head, and Andrew blacked out.

The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Jolene falling out of the car and reaching for him.

 ** _..._**

 _"_ _He's waking up. You made sure the implant's working, right?"_

 _"_ _I guess we'll find out, won't we?"_

Andrew woke up on the ground and grimaced as his head throbbed painfully. Looking around he saw that he was in a bombed-out room surrounded by other humans, all of whom were bruised or bleeding. At the perimeter, several batarians armed with assault rifles looked down at the humans with contempt.

The aching in his head only seemed to be growing worse, and Andrew ran his fingers across his scalp. As they reached his temples however, Andrew's stomach clenched. There were metal ridges protruding for each temple. There was something oozing from them, and Andrew almost threw up when he pulled his hands away and saw blood on his fingers.

Despite his growing terror Andrew forced his hands back onto his head. Tracing the metal on his skull he winced when he reached a disc covering the area just above his spinal column. It was some kind of crude implant, and judging from the still fresh blood it hadn't been long since the batarians grafted it to his head.

How long was he out? What happened to…

Andrew's blood froze as the memories of what happened at his house came rushing back. Their entire neighborhood was under attack, and his sister had been injured. He looked around in panic for Jolene but she was nowhere to be seen. Trying to rise to his feet but still too weary, Andrew turned to one of the batarian guards.

"Where's my sister?" he asked. The guard smirked, answering only with a cruel laugh. Andrew's fear started to give way to anger, and he forced himself to his feet. "Where is Jolene?" The batarian's face went blank. He was obviously shocked at Andrew's strength. Before he could take another step the guard raised what looked like the detonator to a bomb.

Suddenly Andrew's muscles spasmed and the back of his head burned like it was on fire. He collapsed painfully and cried out. As quickly as the burning sensation had come it disappeared, leaving behind the same ache as before. "Know your place, slave. You'll know soon enough," the batarian said casually.

Knowing whatever had been planted in his head wouldn't allow him to fight back, Andrew had no choice but to sit there quietly. What felt like hours passed before an alarm sounded outside. One of the guards shouted, "On your feet! Let's go!" and pointed his rifle at the crowd. They did as ordered, Andrew included.

It pained him to see that there was even children among the various prisoners, grafted with the same implant that Andrew and every other prisoner wore. Some of the captives were people Andrew knew. Willard was hobbling along painfully just a few feet away. It looked as if one of his ankles was injured. Mrs. Tanaka walked by herself silently, obviously in shock. She was carrying a necklace that she had given to her husband years ago.

Andrew looked away in horror when he saw the necklace was stained with blood. What was going to happen to her now? What was going to happen to any of them? He knew the reputation of batarian raiders just as well as anybody, and the guard had simply called him 'slave'.

The crowd emerged from the damaged building into a wide plaza. Andrew and the other prisoners had apparently been kept in what was left of Mindoir High. The school was decimated, with most of the buildings cratered or demolished completely.

The entire colony had gathered at the plaza. Several thousand people were all standing in huddled groups, all of them under close supervision. Armed batarians were perched on top of the buildings around them, or standing close to the humans in case they tried anything. Andrew scanned the crowd for Jolene. After a minute he thought he caught a glimpse of her with several students on the far side of the plaza.

He thought about calling out to her, but Andrew knew that would only cause more trouble. Forcing himself to stay quiet he looked up at the front of the school's entrance. A large, imposing batarian dressed in all black was standing over the crowd. He was heavily scarred, with one of his four eyes missing, and he was holding a microphone. Likely taken from one of the school's offices.

"People of Mindoir," his voiced boomed. "My name is Greyon Drak'har.

"Many years ago, I was born into the warrior caste of the Batarian Hegemony. Over the years I have served my people with courage and dignity. I never questioned those I served…" Drak'har cocked his head to the right. "So when humanity began its overreach into space that was rightfully ours, my superiors allowed loyal warriors like myself to go out and… Set an example." He made a sweeping gesture to the crowd.

"Your people believe that because you dug up some ruins and lucked out in a fight with the turians, you've earned our respect. And the respect of the Galaxy." He shook his head and bared his teeth in a grin that caused a chill to crawl up Andrew's spine. "You were wrong.

Humans are but primitive upstarts who have had power handed to them. If humans believe they can spread across space before they are ready, before they have _earned_ that right, then you must be ready to accept the consequences."

Several people in the crowd shouted protests, but they collapsed screaming as their implants were activated. Drak'har waited until they were silent, grinning smugly. "Those who cannot will learn the price of defiance. Your life as you know it has ended.

As of today, you are but slaves. So you will live. And so you will die."

He beckoned inside the school. "Those who ruled Mindoir before our arrival are dead. Those who answered to them, come forth. If you serve us faithfully no lasting harm will come to you. Attempt to hide yourselves or resist, and you will suffer."

The crowd stayed still. None one moved. Andrew noticed some of the guards fingering their weapons and looking at each other suspiciously. Then it hit him. If nobody cooperated, the batarians would open fire on the crowd. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, Andrew stepped out of the crowd.

Opening his eyes Andrew saw Drak'har looking straight at him. A batarian took him by the arm and led Andrew to the steps where the slaver waited. He stole a glance behind him and to his relief saw Jolene, Lena Farris and Jolene being led his way.

"Very good. You learn quickly."

Andrew bristled at Drak'har's condescending tone but remained silent. The slaver turned the human to face him and asked, "Who are you, and what caste did you belong to?" Clearing his dry throat Andrew thought of a way to answer him.

"My name is Andrew Hudson. And I was a teacher here." He nodded towards Jolene and Lena. "The younger woman is my sister Jolene, and the other is Lena. The principal." Drak'har squinted. "A teacher? From what Rhoya told me, it sounded like you had a fighter's spirit."

Who was Rhoya? Andrew got his answer when Drak'har stood aside. He was almost seized by panic as he saw the batarian who attacked him and Jolene the night before. "Rhoya Xafehr. My second-in-command. Andrew barely heard Drak'har speaking to Lena and Jolene as he and Rhoya stared at each other.

"You knocked out a tooth with that last punch of yours, _Hudson_. And now you'll pay for it," Rhoya whispered. He bowed his head to Drak'har, leaning slightly to the left. "You know I've been a loyal servant," he said. Andrew's ears burned at Rhoya's sycophantic attitude.

"Grant me custody of the young one, Jolene."

He punctuated this with a glance at Andrew. It dawned on him what Rhoya was asking for, and without thinking the human stood in front of his sister protectively. "She's not going anywhere with you," Andrew snarled.

Drak'har pointed at Andrew accusingly. "That is no longer your choice to make, human." He placed his hand on Rhoya's shoulder. "The girl is yours, my friend. But you will not take her out of some petty sense of revenge. We are above that." The batarian commander stood directly in front of Andrew.

"You will serve me, Andrew Hudson. Learn your place well, and I give you my word that you both shall live." He didn't answer Drak'har at first. Instead, Andrew turned around to look down at Jolene. There were tears streaming down her face, and she was shaking uncontrollably. "Don't let them take me, Andrew." He pulled her in for a tight hug. It killed him just how powerless he felt.

This was his fault. If he hadn't wanted persuaded Jolene to come with him, if he'd gotten his head out of the clouds and stayed on Earth this wouldn't have happened to her. But the clicking sound of one of the guard's rifles snapped him back to reality, and Andrew forced himself to accept the truth. There was nothing he could do.

"If I don't do as they say, who knows what they'll do to us?" Andrew noticed that he was crying as well. Wiping his eyes he took Jolene's face in his hands. "I promise I'll make sure nothing happens to you." He felt rough hands taking him by the arm and hastily repeated, "I promise"

Jolene tried to hold on to him but the guards wrenched them apart. She was weeping freely now, and unable to look at her Andrew faced Drak'har again. "Do we understand each other, human?" He ignored the lump in his throat and replied, "Yes." Drak'har cocked an eyebrow. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, master."

* * *

 **Author's Note: I told you things were going to get darker. This story is just beginning, and be warned:**

 **From here on out things are only going to get worse.**

 **In the meantime, leave a review below, and check within the next for days for an update on Two Against the Galaxy.**


	5. The Worst Christmas

"And that's the last of the dead today. What's that make, twenty?"

The batarian accountant looked up from his datapad. "Twenty-one." He activated a comm-link and barked, "We're ready to, ahem, 'close down' the grain factory." At the other end of the line his superior growled, _"Excellent. My men have had just about enough of that shit."_

The accountant, a weaselly scammer named Daher, closed the comm-link and walked down from the makeshift scaffolding overseeing the grain factory sustaining Mindoir. Dozens of human slaves below were finishing their work; clearing out the factory of any useful machinery.

Grain itself wasn't very objectionable, having served as a source of food for batarians since their civilization began. But the kind that came out of human agriculture was nothing short of disgusting. The batarians had brought plenty of their own supplies, they would grown their own food.

Daher picked up a gun and fired a single shot into the air, causing the humans look up at him in alarm.

"Listen up, slugs. That was some fine disassembling today. I understand you lost a few people today…" Daher gestured to a vehicle carrying off twenty-one human bodies for disposal. "Forget them if you know what's good for you. Keep at the hard work and maybe you won't end up being shipped off yourselves."

That wasn't entirely true. Daher knew the whole reason those poor bastards were dead in the first place was being overworked and starved, but he wasn't about to say anything. They were just slaves. Daher boarded a transport headed for the center of the colony, not looking back as the guards detonated the charges placed around the ground level and the factory went up in flames.

 ** _..._**

Greyon Drak'har stood alone in an office once belonging to Mindoir's governor. He hadn't bothered to learn the human's name, as the man had been killed in the initial bombings. It was for the best, he wouldn't have been much use to Drak'har anyway.

"Hudson, where is the report on any activity in this system?"

At the desk behind him Andrew Hudson hurried to pull up a map of Mindoir and the neighboring planets. What felt like a month had passed since his enslavement, and Andrew's appearance had grown thinner and more ragged. A slightly unkempt beard had grown across his face, and his light brown hair was now flecked with grey.

"Here you are, master," he said and gestured for Drak'har to come over to him.

The batarian leader scrutinized the map before him. Andrew stayed still next to him, hoping that Drak'har would like what he found. His duties as a slave consisted mainly of keeping records for Drak'har, and informing him of every aspect of Mindoir. Any weakness, any natural resource to exploit and any way the Alliance could attempt to take the planet back.

On several occasions he had angered the slaver, receiving a painful shock through his implant or being threatened with worse. Every now and then when Drak'har was in a particularly foul mood, he would say, ' _You won't suffer half as much as your sister, I promise you.'_

But as threatening as his master was, Andrew hated his subordinate Rhoya all the more. The raider was a cowardly sycophant, often hiding behind his position to get what he wanted. Even more unbearable was his wanton, needless cruelty towards his own slaves. After the invasion of Mindoir, Rhoya had received ten slaves with Jolene among them. But now only four were left.

Jolene was holding up worse than Andrew. His once cheerful and lively sister had grown almost silent, never speaking unless she was allowed and accepting any verbal or physical abuse thrown her way. Andrew had only seen her two or three times over the past month, and she hadn't been able to even speak to him.

Not that she had a choice. None of them had a choice.

"Hudson." He came back to reality and looked at Drak'har. "Yes, master?" The slaver's eyes narrowed. "Take a look at these readings. What do you see?" Andrew cracked his knuckles and scanned through the map of map as he was told. Everything seemed normal.

"Nothing, master." Drak'har smiled. "That is correct. I am sure that your Alliance knows by now what has happened to this world, and is sending an army here." He paused, as if trying to get a reaction out of Andrew. When he stayed quiet Drak'har finished, "But until then we will be quite comfortable."

The slaver closed the map in front of them and said, "I believe we are finished for today. Return to your quarters."

Andrew looked at the time. It was 4:40, and it was getting dark. Drak'har usually let him go with enough time for a good night's sleep, if only so that he could work productively each day. Andrew had learned from experience that nothing Drak'har said or did should be taken for kindness.

 ** _..._**

It was getting cold outside.

Andrew's current residence was in a partially rebuilt gym just south of the ruins of Mindoir High. It was a ten-minute walk from the administrative center, but he wasn't really in a position to complain.

While walking with several other slaves towards his 'home' Andrew couldn't help looking over his shoulder once or twice. There were guards hidden in various locations throughout the colony, ready to trigger a slave's implant is they disobeyed or acted suspicious. He didn't finally relax until reaching his home and entered past three guards.

" _Mr. Hudson…_ "

He heard a familiar whisper, and rolled his eyes as a teenager dressed in a thick sweater emerged from the room next to his. "What is it, Mason?" The youngster looked around them to make sure nobody was watching or listening. "I thought you might want to come in. We've got a nice fire going tonight, and I thought maybe you could join us for dinner?"

Mason Nichols was a lanky, tall boy only a few inches shorter than Andrew. His hair was a tangled mess and his face was often covered in dirt. Mason was more enthusiastic and cheerful than one would expect from a slave, and when first meeting him Andrew thought he was crazy. Then again, judging by the mischief Mason had gotten away with Andrew wasn't exactly sure he wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Mason. I have work to do." It felt bad letting the kid down, but the former teacher couldn't bear to talk to Mason's parents or sister. His older brother, Jake, had been as student of Andrew's.

And he was killed by a bomb when the batarians invaded.

"Come on, Mr. Hudson..." Mason's disappointment was obvious. "It's Christmas Eve, nobody should have to spend it alone." Christmas Eve? Andrew peered at Mason with a confused look, and the boy seemed to understand his confusion. "My folks keep a calendar ready," he said, and produced a small pamphlet.

It was made out of scraps of old plastic, with months scratched into the surface. Andrew flipped through it in bemusement. Mason's family must have been keeping track of the days since they were first enslaved. "December…" Andrew reached the last month of the year, and sure enough the days were scratched out up until the 24th of December.

Laughing for the first time in a while Andrew muttered, "I'll be damned." Mason nodded encouragingly. "Yep. I even got a few friends together and we snatched some leftover food from our guards." Andrew's laugh faded and he looked back up at the boy.

"Batarian food?" Chuckling in embarrassment Mason hesitated before nodding. "Yeah… It's not exactly turkey, gravy and pudding. But we'll manage. Besides, we have a surprise ready for you." He held out his arm, pointing to an old boiler room his family used as their new home. "Come on in."

Andrew thought about it for a little while longer. It wasn't like he had any plans for tonight. If he rested enough after all the celebrating, he could still be ready for whatever work Drak'har had for him the next day. More than that, this could get Andrew's mind off all of that. It would be just like the old days.

Finally he shrugged and said happily, "What have I got to lose?"

Mason's face lit up and he pulled Andrew inside. Gesturing around the room the boy directed him towards his mother and father. They were sitting around a fire with several others, passing around bowls of what looked like stewed meat. Mason's father Hank smiled warmly and beckoned Andrew over when he saw him.

"Good to have you here."

He sat down and accepted a bowl from a girl sitting on his right. "Nice to see you, Hank. You too, Gina." Gina Nichols was grinning already as she gestured towards the stew in Andrew's bowl. "Go ahead and try it." Andrew looked at the smile on her face, and then at his bowl, then back again at Gina.

"Is this that surprise you were talking about earlier, Mason?" Instead of answering him the boy simply replied, "Give the stew a try, and you'll find out." Andrew sighed in annoyance. This was why he didn't like surprises. "Okay, fine." He sniffed the bowl, and Andrew was pleasantly surprised by how nice it smelled.

More interesting was how familiar it smelled. There was a hint of something he couldn't quite name, but it was something he knew. Andrew took a spoonful and tasted the stew carefully. It was still hot, but had cooled down enough so that Andrew didn't have to worry about burning himself. And it was delicious.

Something clicked in the back of his mind, and he realized why the stew was so familiar. "Rosemary," he muttered. Andrew's memory took him back to a moment years ago, as he stood in the kitchen adding rosemary to a pork dish with to his mom and…

"You got this recipe from Jolene!"

Neither Mason nor his family was able to say anything before Andrew started bombarding them with questions. "Where is she? Is she all right? Did you-" He was cut off when the girl on his right elbowed him in the ribs. "Just spoil our secret and get us all killed, why don't you?" she hissed.

Andrew cursed and rubbed his sore ribs. "What the hell are you talking about?" Mason was looking towards every exit in alarm before he turned his attention back to Andrew.

His tone was shaky when he said, "Okay, I might as well tell you now. I guess you had to know sooner or later; we snuck into Rhoya's base to see your sister. It was her that got us the food."

Mason looked like he was ready to run when Andrew rose to his feet angrily. " _What?!_ " The older man remembered the guards outside and had to pause before continuing. "Mason, are you fucking crazy? Do you know what those bastards might have done to you if you got caught?" Mason tried to answer but Andrew cut him off.

"You've pulled some crazy shit before, Mason. But this really takes the cake." He turned to look at some of the other slaves. "Did you even think about your own safety? _Did you think about my sister's?_ " Some of them were looking down at their feet, but some including Mason were still looking at him.

"Yes, we were thinking about her," Hank finally answered. "And in a few days you can see her."

What was he talking about? Andrew stammered as he asked. "W-what do you mean?" Mason gestured for him to sit back down. "We mean we found a way to get you back with Jolene. Map, please?" The boy snapped his fingers and a mousy young girl walked up holding a large roll of paper.

Mason unrolled the paper. It was a map of Mindoir High and the road leading to the administrative center. "That asshole Rhoya has set up his own little palace in the school. It's a big place, but still doesn't fit that massive ego of his." Andrew shook his head.

"I already know all of this. He doesn't let anybody wander around though, and it's not exactly next door." Mason cocked his head to the side, clearly knowing something Andrew didn't. "That's true," he said. "But just couple of days ago he had his goons loot this place. Notice the lack of a proper boiler," Mason finished and pointed around them.

"Soon they're probably going to confiscate any old gym equipment and melt it down so we can't keep ourselves in anything resembling good shape." Andrew's eyes narrowed as he started to understand what Mason was saying.

He did his best to keep himself calm, whispering, "So they'll bring their people over here and I can meet her." Mason nodded. "Exactly." Andrew felt like thanking him, but his heart sank as he remembered just why this little 'plan' couldn't work. "There's a problem, Mason. In order for this to even work, I'm supposed to waltz up to Drak'har…"

Andrew raised his eyebrows at Mason, who only now seemed to remember his friend's predicament and buried his face in his hands.

"…And tell him, _'Master, I know I'm a slave and I can't really ask for any favors. But I was hoping to take the day off and say hello to my little sister Jolene. Please don't beat me to a pulp.'_ " Andrew let the moment linger as Mason struggled to find an answer.

This was turning into the worst Christmas ever. And quite possibly Andrew's last.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Don't be fooled. This isn't a fic filled to the brim with awkwardly funny circumstances. No trend of black comedy to be found here.**

 **So Andrew's going to have to ask his rather... grouchy master for a favor. In the process, we'll be getting more insight into Drak'har as a character and learn just how dire Andrew's situation really is. And we will see Jolene again.**

 **But she'll be... different.**

 **Leave a review if you like, and I'll see you 'round!**


	6. The Deal

It was three days after Christmas when Andrew received a message from Mason, a small note left at the bottom of his door.

 _Andrew,_

 _Rhoya is coming to get the gym equipment tomorrow. I know you don't think there's a good chance he'll listen, but you want to see Jolene you have to ask Drak'har now._

 _Mason_

"Fuck…" Andrew looked up at the administrative building in front of him, where Drak'har was surely waiting. What was he going to do? If Drak'har didn't like was he had to say the batarian could easily torture Andrew or kill him. And who knew what would happen to Jolene?

He walked past the two batarian guards at the entrance and tried to ignore it when one of them fingered his rifle menacingly. They could obvious tell how nervous Andrew was, even of they couldn't guess why.

By the time he walked into the office and spotted Greyon Drak'har across the room Andrew's heart was racing. Drak'har spotted him from across the room and barked, "You're late, Hudson." Andrew took a deep breath and ignored the sick feeling in his stomach. "I'm sorry, master. I'll try to be punctual."

Andrew's mind raced. He forced himself to think of something, _anything_ that could get Drak'har to talk about family or friends. If Andrew wasn't careful and gave his intentions away too soon then Drak'har wouldn't take his request very well. Andrew was his slave. He wasn't obliged to do him any favors.

"So… what's in store for me when you and your people are done here?"

Drak'har didn't answer at first. Instead he peered at Andrew with a quizzical look. "Why would you ask that now?" he finally asked. There was a calm edge to his voice that set off an alarm in the back of Andrew's head, and he thought up a response fast.

"Well, I understand that if batarian slavers raid a planet belonging to another civilization, they usually pull out. You said it yourself, the Alliance is going to send people here sooner or later."

The batarian's three remaining eyes blinked. Again, Drak'har was silent as he scanned Andrews, and the slave felt as if his master was staring right through him. "My men could put up a good fight. But you are correct, Hudson.

We would be forced to return home, as I doubt your Alliance would send just a few meager ships to rescue you and the others." Drak'har turned his black eyes outside and stared into the distance.

"I can imagine we would receive a hero's welcome from everyone. From our leaders, our friends…"

Andrew's heart jumped, and he felt himself speak before he could stop himself. "And family?"

He heard himself say it, and nearly panicked. Drak'har slowly turned back to him, and sure enough the slaver's eyes were narrowed and his lip curled. He knew what Andrew's intentions were. "I should have guessed you would ask me such a thing sooner or later," he growled.

Taking a step backwards instinctively Andrew watched Drak'har start to advance on him. The back of his legs hit a chair behind him, and Andrew was frozen in place. Drak'har reached him and took Andrew by the scruff of the neck.

"What did I say to you and the other humans when we came here? What were my exact words?"

It wasn't hard for Andrew to remember. "Your life as you know it has ended," he quoted. But remembering Drak'har's promise he added, "You also gave me your word that if I served you, if I did everything you said, Jolene and I would both live."

Drak'har tightened his grip on Andrew and bared his teeth in a terrifying snarl. But eventually his hold slackened and the batarian sighed. "Your memory serves you annoyingly well. I did make such a promise." Drak'har let Andrew go and stepped back, giving him room to breath.

"Tell me, do you love your sister?" What kind of question was that? Andrew stammered in shock before saying, "Of course." Drak'har seemed to expect this answer.

" _Of course,_ " he repeated. "My family still waits for me on Khar'shan, the homeworld of our people. A wife, a child… I have thought about them every day, but I still do my duty."

Andrew nodded. "And until you came along I was doing mine. We all have families. How many have you torn apart? How would you feel if some lunatic came along and took your wife from you, after everything you'd been through together?"

He could hear his voice growing angry, and Drak'har visibly fingered the remote trigger to Andrew's implant.

"Tread carefully, Hudson."

Taking the hint, Andrew forced himself to calm down and pleaded, "Master, I haven't seen Jolene in weeks. I heard that your people are scavenging equipment from the old gym tomorrow, and she's going to be there." He could feel a lump growing in his throat as a month's worth of pain and fear finally came pouring out.

"Please just let me talk to her. Let me know she's okay. Jolene is _my_ family, and slavery isn't going to change that."

Drak'har's face was impossible to read. The longer Andrew had spoken, the more his posture slackened and his scowl faded. Andrew stopped; knowing that nothing else he said would make any difference. There wasn't any way of knowing what Drak'har would do now.

"Wait outside," Drak'har finally ordered. "I will speak with Rhoya."

What did that mean? Andrew thought about asking, but it occurred to him that would be a bad idea. Instead he nodded respectfully and said, "Yes, master." He exited the office and waited quietly. Minutes later Rhoya Xafehr appeared in the hall across from the office.

He spotted Andrew and swaggered up to him with a grin that made Andrew want to throttle him. "Well, well. If it isn't my illustrious leader's favorite pet." Rhoya looked inside, then back to Andrew.

"What, is he having you take a time out? I wonder what you did this time."

Andrew refused to be provoked and simply moved to the side, giving the batarian room to enter. "Only one way to find out, I guess," he said flippantly. It was hard to contain his satisfaction at the disappointed look on Rhoya's face, and Andrew waited until the slaver was in the office before he let himself smile.

Andrew hadn't expected this to happen. When coming in earlier he was ready to be rejected or punished. Then again, having to wait like this was even worse. Andrew's grin faded quickly, and he slumped against the wall; waiting for whatever his master and Rhoya had in store.

 ** _..._**

"You must be joking."

Greyon Drak'har stood his ground even as his lieutenant looked ready to murder him. Rhoya was pacing back and forth in front of him, wringing his hands in frustration. "That slave, that _human_ has the nerve to ask that I give up my property and you have the gall to side with him?"

Rhoya's anger didn't even faze Drak'har. "I am not siding with anyone. I am rewarding my slave for his faithful service. The human asks only for the chance to speak with his sister, even minutes with her are precious to him." The other batarian scoffed at this.

"Of course he would say that. But how do you know he isn't planning something? How do you know he won't seek some form of retribution against me for…"

"For _what_ , Rhoya?" Drak'har silenced him quickly. "You took Jolene Hudson as the spoils of our conquest, as our laws condone. Andrew Hudson is no fool, he understands that." When Rhoya said nothing and averted his gaze, Drak'har cocked his head.

"Unless there is something you have to tell me."

Rhoya shook his head. "No. I have treated her no differently than any other slave." Drak'har laughed harshly. "That could mean any number of things. If I discover that you allowed your petty grievances to cloud your judgment and wasted a perfectly useful slave…"

Rhoya's eyes bugged and he glared back at his leader.

"Petty?"

Drak'har pointed at Rhoya's face. "Aside from striking you during our invasion, what has he done to you?" When Rhoya had no answer the older batarian turned away and stood by the window, looking over the colony below.

"We serve the Hegemony. We honor our traditions and deliver justice to our enemies. But we are not savages, Rhoya. And I refuse to let you behave like a spoiled child because of a simple grudge." Rhoya sounded like he was going to retort, so Drak'har added, "I will say no more. You may leave now."

His right-hand man fumed for another minute before he turned on his heel and stormed from the office. Rhoya shoved his way past Andrew Hudson snarling, "Out of my way, slave." The human grunted in surprise but let him go.

Once Rhoya was past earshot of either his leader or Hudson Rhoya began cursing to himself, ranting at his master's softness. These colonists were their property, nothing more. Why should Rhoya have to bow to 'tradition' and play nice?

Who did Hudson think he was, asking a batarian commander, his _master_ for even one minute of respite from service just so he could see his pathetic whore of a sister? Rhoya ranted and swore until he suddenly froze. His eyes flashed maliciously and a grin spread across his face. Rhoya made sure nobody was watching before he activated his comm link

"Twenty-one? This is Xafehr. I'm going to send you coordinates for a drop off tomorrow. Send about… fifteen of your own."

If Andrew wanted to see little Jolene so badly, Rhoya would be happy to oblige.

 ** _..._**

 **December 29, 2170**

Andrew drew his jacket around him tightly and warmed his hands before he stepped outside. It was a cloudy day, and everything outside was covered in frost. He fond himself shivering, and not just from the cold.

He still couldn't believe it this was happening. He knew Greyan Drak'har was ruthless, having spent almost every day with him for the past month. But there was more to him than that. Despite his harshness, Drak'har was letting Andrew see Jolene. Even if it was just for one day! Andrew had no love for the slaver, but he had to admit Drak'har was a better man than any of his underlings.

But Andrew wasn't about to tell him that.

Mason and his parents walked outside soon after, along with two large boys Andrew recognized as football players from Mindoir High. The other residents from their building piled out as well. They all wanted to be present when Rhoya's people arrived.

For several minutes the group waited silently, before Andrew saw a transport driving towards them. "Heads up," he said sharply and the people behind him tensed up. The transport was the batarian equivalent of an armored personnel carrier, and as it stopped in front of Andrew's home the back opened up.

Fifteen human slaves filed out of the transport slowly, flanked by three batarians in full armor. Andrew began to scan the group, looking for Jolene. His pulse started to pick up when he saw Rhoya come out as well.

" _Can you see her?_ " he whispered. Mason shook his head. Once the slaves were done filing out Rhoya and his men shoved them into a line and he barked, "Inside! We haven't got all day."

Andrew gritted his teeth and started towards Rhoya, but Mason tried to take his arm. "Don't…" He shrugged the boy off easily. Marching up to Rhoya without thinking, Andrew snarled, "I thought we had a deal."

Rhoya looked at him with a look of utter contempt. "Yes, of course. Our deal. Just give me second." He grinned viciously and reached for his belt. Andrew watched as Rhoya pressed the trigger on a remote, and he heard a small yelp from inside the transport.

"There! That ought to get the bitch to come running."

He didn't have time to retort before a thin, haggard figure came staggering out of the vehicle. Andrew's gut clenched. It was Jolene.

Andrew's sister was dressed in nothing but a shredded t-shirt and pants torn below her knees. Her feet were bare and covered in scabs. Jolene seemed to have lost a shocking amount of weight since Andrew had last seen her, and her hair looked singed as if her implant had been triggered frequently.

But Jolene's eyes were the worst part. They looked empty, staring off into the distance as she shambled towards Andrew. He walked past Rhoya and took her by the shoulders. "Jolene?"

She didn't say anything, but when he turned her head to face him Jolene's face twitched. "It's me…" A lump was growing in Andrew's throat. "It's Andrew." Jolene blinked and her eyes finally focused on him. A look of recognition crossed her face and she whispered, "Andrew?"

His eyes were burning but Andrew was able to nod and rasp, "Yes." Andrew pulled Jolene in for a tight hug but behind him Rhoya prodded him with the butt of his rifle. "Well don't just stand there, take her inside, where it's warm. Some brother _you_ are."

Andrew's fists clenched and he turned on Rhoya furiously. "What the fuck have you done to her?" The slaver chuckled. "Well, I'll tell you the same I told Drak'har. I treated her as I would any other slave."

No sooner had he opened his mouth than Jolene started to shake. She fell to her knees and Andrew examined her. His sister's breathing was shallow and her heart was racing. Jolene's eyes darted back and forth, and she shook even harder when Rhoya bellowed, "Let's give them some time to catch up. Move on in, you slugs!"

The siblings watched their fellow slaves move inside the gym. Andrew thought about following Rhoya and maybe punching out another one of his teeth. But his attention was drawn back to Jolene when she started to weep. Feeling how cold her hand was Andrew took off his jacket and wrapped it around Jolene and did his best to calm her down.

If had watched Rhoya for just a moment longer he could have spotted the batarian tap his comm link and mutter something before fingering his pistol.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I really like the batarians. They parallel many authoritarian regimes we've seen in real life, where the populace is brainwashed to truly believe in the terrible things they do for their country. That's where Greyon Drak'har came in. I wanted to write a character who is harsh and ruthless, but has a sense of honor and traditions. He is a slaver and has killed a lot of people, but it's the tradition of his people; Drak'har sees himself as honoring that.**

 **Rhoya Xafehr on the other hand... Well, regimes like the Hegemony always end up creating monsters. And Xafehr's plan will just end up creating another one.**

 **Let me know what you think in the reviews below, and I'll see you soon with the new chapter of 'Two Against the Galaxy'.**


	7. Massacre

**Warning: Character deaths and graphic violence follow.**

* * *

Andrew held Jolene close to him and tried to hide how cold he was. She had cried for a while before he was able to calm her down. Now the siblings were sittting on a bench overlooking a wide field. It saddened him to see how faded it was, when just a few months ago Andrew could stare at it for hours.

Now it was barren and ruined. Just like everything and everyone here.

Jolene shifted in place beside him. "Feeling okay?" he asked softly. His sister shrugged. "I've been better." She smiled ruefully and pointed out to the field. "Do you remember when we first came here?"

Cocking his head Andrew gave his sister a confused look. "Of course. Why would you ask that?" Jolene took him by the chin, and turned him out towards the field again.

"When we got out of the transport that was the first sight I spotted. Our house had a clear view and I thought, 'Wow. Every morning we'll get to wake up and see _that._ "

A pang of regret shot through Andrew as he remembered the day of his interview with Lena Harris. "I know exactly what you mean," he muttered sadly. For the third time in an hour Andrew's eyes started watering again. He wiped his face, forcing himself to stay calm.

"I remember." Feeling more guilty by the second Andrew caved and rasped, "I'm sorry, Jolene." His sister shook her head. "This wasn't your fault."

Andrew shut his eyes. "Yes it is. If I hadn't brought us here, we wouldn't be slaves. If I hadn't attacked Rhoya, if I'd just tried to get away with you, he wouldn't have done _this_ to you." He gestured to Jolene's malnourished appearance.

Jolene flinched. Her face grew pale and she whispered, "Rhoya does these terrible things because he _can._ That isn't on you." Even though she still had on Andrew's jacket, he could feel Jolene shuddering.

Not about to let his sister think about that sick bastard, Andrew wrapped his arm around Jolene and let her rest her head on his shoulder like they did when they were still children. They sat quietly for another minute before Andrew's gaze turned to the center of the colony in the distance.

His face cracked into a smile. "If it makes you feel any better I have some _good_ news," he said. Jolene's eyes narrowed. "What could possibly qualify as good news?" she said. Andrew didn't blame her for being so skeptical. "It's true."

He made sure Rhoya and his goons weren't anywhere nearby. "I was able to see you today because of my master. He let me come, and told Rhoya not to get in the way." Andrew saw Jolene's face tighten with fear and he continued, "I know what you're thinking. And I was wondering the same thing too; why would Drak'har help me?"

"He didn't tell you?" Jolene asked in confusion. Shrugging, Andrew looked at the center of the colony in the distance. "I didn't really ask. Maybe when I get back…"

He stopped when something else caught his eye. It was a batarian shuttle, and it was coming towards them fast. Andrew and Jolene rose from the bench as the shuttle landed in front of the gym. The doors opened, and Greyon Drak'har strolled out.

The slaver was dressed in full armor, and he looked livid. Drak'har spotted the Hudson siblings and beckoned them to the shuttle bellowing, "Get over here, now!" As Drak'har shouted, Andrew heard something else in the building behind them.

Inside, he heard raised voices, as if Rhoya and Andrew's people were having some sort of argument. He felt Jolene latch onto his arm tightly. "What's happening?" she squeaked.

Andrew guided her to the shuttle, but when they were within reach Drak'har reached out with inhuman speed and grabbed Jolene. Andrew reflexively tightened his hold on her. "What are you doing?"

His master pulled out a gun. "Get her in the shuttle and come with me," he ordered. It was clear he wasn't going to ask twice. With his ears pounding Andrew walked Jolene into the vehicle, where two batarian guards waited. "Andrew, what's going on?"

Andrew's heart felt like it was ready to burst into his chest. "I don't know. Just stay here," he said. He returned back to his master. "Master, I..." Drak'har cut him off.

"Quiet. I received a message from Rhoya minutes ago. Something is wrong with his slaves, and a fight may have broken out between them and your friends."

Drak'har pulled Andrew to the building entrance and opened the door. "Your fellow slaves trust you. Whatever is going on, you may be able to calm them down. I will help Rhoya… deal with his own." Andrew's face reddened as he understood what Drak'har was saying, but he remained silent.

The pair walked inside, with Andrew leading Drak'har through the dilapidated building. The area containing most of the building's old equipment was at the back. Andrew found himself walking quickly out of anxiety, but he hesitated when he noticed how quiet it had grown. Had the people inside stopped their arguing?

He got his answer when they rounded a corner leading to the storage area. A human slave was running towards Andrew, clutching his own arm as if it were wounded. It was Mason Nichols.

"Mason, what's going on?"

The boy opened his mouth as if to answer him. But no words came out; instead Mason collapsed at Andrew's feet coughing. A spray of red stained his shoes. "Oh my god, Mason!"

As he shouted in alarm Drak'har knelt to examine the fallen teenager, who was twitching and gasping as more blood dripped from his mouth. "What happened to him?" Andrew's master turned Mason onto his back. His chest was slashed open.

"Help him!"

But even as he protested, Andrew watched as his old student's choking subsided, and he slumped to the floor. Drak'har examined him for a moment further before turning his gaze back to Andrew and shaking his head.

"Mason…"

Drak'har closed Mason Nichols' eyes and stood up. "This is worse than I thought." He checked his gun and tugged at Andrew, who was still staring down at Mason's body. "Come on."

With his slave trailing behind, Drak'har shoved open the doors in front of them and shouted, " _Rhoya!_ " Andrew peered out from behind him and felt sick to his stomach.

Strewn throughout the large room were bodies, some intact and recognizable and others mutilated horribly. On the other side of the room, Rhoya Xafehr was struggling against one of the slaves he had brought with him. The slave, a middle-aged woman, was screeching at him and clawing at his face. Rhoya batarian headbutted her and threw her to the ground.

"Rhoya!"

Drak'har shouted at him again, and this time the lieutenant responded. "They've gone mad, Commander!" Sure enough the woman jumped to her feet once more and launched herself at Rhoya.

Only to find herself impaled on a cruel, jagged knife he had drawn just a second before.

Andrew couldn't take the sight any further, and he fell to his knees and vomited. His eyes were screwed shut but he heard Drak'har walking toward his second-in-command. "What is the meaning of this?" he snarled.

Rhoya replied, "Sir, the slaves' quarrel escalated into an attack. They just went mad! I barely managed to hold them off, but my own men were killed."

While he explained to his superior what happened, Andrew wiped his mouth and managed to open his eyes. His breathing was shallow as he looked around him, spotting Mason's parents among the dead.

"You!"

Rhoya's voice brought Andrew back to attention. The batarian was scowling, pointing an accusing finger straight at him. "All of these slaves knew you. Why were you not with them?"

The human shakily stood up and glared back at him. He slowed his breathing and retorted, "You know why." Rhoya looked at Drak'har pleadingly. "Commander, this must have been planned by Hudson and the other humans."

"That's a lie!"

Drak'har looked at his subordinate in disbelief. "Have you lost your mind, Rhoya? What would any of them have to gain by risking their lives against you?" Next to him, Rhoya sneered at Andrew.

"He probably thought it would be a fitting gift to his little sister if he killed me. Why do you think Hudson asked your permission to be here if not to see his plan be carried out?"

This caused Andrew to start towards Rhoya angrily, but he remembered his implant. The son of a bitch probably wanted him to try it. Instead he ignored Rhoya and asked, "Master, I'm admit it. I've hated him since I first met him. But I'm not stupid. I know what would happen to Jolene and me if we tried anything like this and failed."

He spat at Rhoya, "If anything, _he's_ behind this because he can't stand having to play nice with a human."

Drak'har stood between them. "That's enough out of the both of you!" When both Andrew and his lieutenant had quieted down Drak'har continued, "We will return to our base and have my other followers examine this until they discover what really happened."

He glared at them both. "And whoever is responsible for this will pay with their life."

Andrew forced himself to nod and replied, "Yes, master." Rhoya agreed as well, and for just a moment their eyes locked before Drak'har led them away from the slaughter.

They returned outside, where Jolene and Drak'har's guards waited for them. Andrew went back to the shuttle. One of the guards emerged and held him up. Andrew put his hands up and said, "My sister's in there."

Nearby Drak'har signaled his approval and the guard stepped away to let Andrew peer inside. Jolene was sitting by herself, keeping her distance from the batarians. She spotted him and shot to her feet. "Andrew!"

She came out to meet him, but Rhoya was already headed their way. "Jolene." Upon hearing the slaver bark her name, Jolene froze in place. The color drained from her face, and just like before she began shaking.

"It's time to leave."

Andrew held out his arm in front of Jolene. "Hold on," he said defensively. "Master, I don't trust Rhoya for a second with Jolene after what's happened today." Drak'har was conversing with another batarian nearby. He grunted in annoyance when noticing Andrew's standoff with Rhoya.

"By our law, I cannot take what he has already been claimed. But I will make sure that no undue harm comes to her. Say your goodbyes, and we will meet again soon to discuss what has happened here today."

Neither Jolene nor Rhoya seemed very happy with this. Andrew could relate. He pulled Jolene away, towards the same bench they had rested on earlier. "And they're taking me away again," Jolene sighed.

Seething in frustration Andrew muttered, "This is bullshit. If it were up to me that sick fuck wouldn't get within a mile of you ever again." Jolene laughed. "I haven't seen you this angry since you punched his tooth out."

When he didn't respond, she placed her hand on his cheek warmly. "I think I'll be okay. Now that I know you're still out there." The smile disappeared from her face however. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Andrew lied. When Jolene shot him a suspicious look he caved and said, "Rhoya just tried to frame me for murder." His sister gaped at him. "What?" The image of Mason and his family's mutilated bodies caused Andrew to gag.

"He killed them. Everyone inside, even his own slaves, he killed all of them and blamed me for it." After a few moments of staring Jolene snapped back to reality. "If you're still alive that means Drak'har doesn't really believe him." She glanced in her own master's direction.

"He'll do anything to get rid of you, won't he?" Andrew's jaw clenched. "That's not going to happen." A cold breeze blew over the two and Andrew shivered in spite of himself. Jolene moved to take off Andrew's jacket and give it back to him. "Here," she said. "I'll be okay." But he refused.

"No, you need it more than I do."

But Jolene didn't listen, spreading her arms to shake the coat off. As she did, however, the hem of her torn shirt lifted above her midsection and Andrew spotted a red line along Jolene's hip. "What is that?" he asked in alarm.

She realized what he was looking at and quickly covered up. "Nothing." There was something in her voice that caused the hairs on the back of Andrew's neck to stand up. Without thinking his pulled the jacket open.

A series of horrible scars covered Jolene's abdomen and ran along the sides of her torso up to her ribcage. She recoiled as the wounds were uncovered, and she stammered, "Don't… Please…" Her eyes flickered left and right between her brother and Rhoya.

Everything seemed to slow down around Andrew as he stared at Jolene. A horrible realization suddenly dawned on him, and he knew exactly who had done this to her.

Something in the back of Andrew's mind caused his to whirl about to face Rhoya. The batarian was looking straight at the siblings, having obviously spotted what was going on.

In that moment Andrew forgot everything else around them. He forgot that he was grafted with a device that could electrocute him at any time. He forgot that he was starved, cold and desperate and that Rhoya was a trained fighter.

"You... _I'll kill you!_ "

Launching himself at Rhoya in a blind rage, Andrew sent both of them tumbling to the ground. He barely heard Jolene screaming behind him, or Drak'har yelling at him to stop.

Something inside of Andrew had snapped. He began punching Rhoya in the face repeatedly, yelling with an anger he had never known before. Underneath him Rhoya was sputtering in shock and panic. It excited Andrew to see him so afraid. His clumsy attempt at revenge had failed, and now a _slave_ was beating him to death.

But reality came rushing back to Andrew as he felt two pairs of strong arms pull him back away from Rhoya. He looked up and saw Drak'har standing beside Jolene, attempting to restrain her.

" _Hold him back!_ "

Despite his master's warnings the two batarians next to Andrew barely kept him from charging Rhoya again. The slaver staggered to his feet, drawing his knife again.

"You're going to regret that."

"Stop him!" Drak'har yelled. But none of the others seemed to notice Rhoya moving towards Andrew with a crazed look and his arm upraised.

Just as he reared back, something moved in the corner of Andrew's vision. Rhoya brought his knife down in a flash and Andrew felt himself shoved off to the side.

He grunted painfully as he hit the ground. The guards holding him were thrown off and Andrew sprang up. He turned back to Rhoya, and his heart stopped.

Jolene stood wavering in front of him, clutching at her chest. Blood was welling between her fingers, and she fell to her knees. Andrew screamed as he saw the blade of Rhoya's knife protruding from her chest.

" _JOLENE!_ "

He reached for his sister, oblivious to Rhoya standing over him ready to attack again. But a loud _bang_ echoed around them and the batarian collapsed, clutching his arm.

Whatever happened next, Andrew didn't know. He crawled to Jolene frantically, and took hold of her. "Jolene, no… No!"

Jolene's eyes were unfocused, and she seemed to be going into shock. "Andrew…"

Gently he took the back of Jolene's head and lifted her up towards him. "Listen, I'm here. I'm right here!" She looked at him and tried to say something, but instead her face tightened painfully.

"Someone help us!"

Andrew's head whirled around. Rhoya was nowhere to be seen. Drak'har forced his men back into a shuttle, and his three remaining eyes widened when he turned back to Andrew and his wounded sister.

"Help…"

His throat tightened, and Andrew's plea registered as barely a whisper. But a part of him already knew it wouldn't do any good if he had screamed. Drak'har never carried medical supplies with him.

"Andrew…" He whipped his head down to look at Jolene again. Her face was colorless, and a trickle of blood was rolling down from her mouth. "Please, no…" Jolene's eyes met his, and Andrew felt his sister take his hand.

Jolene kept her gaze on him as she took one last shuddering breath. And then her body seemed to relax in Andrew's arms.

"Jolene?"

She didn't answer. Andrew looked up and down his sister's limp body in horror. "No!" He shook her, as if expecting her to wake up. "NO!" Wrapping his arms around his dead sister Andrew collapsed and screamed.

He screamed until his voice was hoarse and his throat ached. As he felt someone take hold of his shoulders, Andrew felt his body finally give up and everything went black.

* * *

 **Author's Note: So this is the _second_ sad death I've had to write in a Mass Effect story.**

 **Jolene is gone, and without her Andrew's story is only going to take him and us readers to a much darker place. We don't know how Rhoya caused the massacre in Andrew's home, we still haven't met this 'Twenty-one' that helped arrange it, and there are going to be repercussions for everyone after what just happened.**

 **What might those be? You'll just have to find out next time.**

 **Let me know if you have any writing tips, I'm always open to helpful feedback. And as always, I'll see you next time.**


	8. Stay the Execution

Greyon Drak'har sat quietly in his command center as his various aides and lieutenants argued. It had been three days since the confrontation that left his right-hand man wounded, a dozen slaves dead and his own personal attendant catatonic.

"We should kill Andrew Hudson, make an example of him. Or else the other slaves may lash out as he did." The tactical officer for Drak'har's own ship earned several grunts of agreement.

"If we further antagonize them, then the slaves will _surely_ begin to fight back. The blame lies with Rhoya Xafehr. He violated the terms of his ownership of Jolene Hudson, and it resulted in her death. Rhoya must pay for his deceit."

Jo'hen was an elderly batarian educated in their people's religious beliefs and customs, and his claim earned a louder roar of approval from the gathered batarians.

"All evidence points to him being responsible for the slaughter of Hudson's fellow slaves," a younger soldier growled.

Drak'har felt his lips curl. He finally broke his silence and said, "He will be punished accordingly. _I_ will deal with Andrew Hudson." His tactical officer, a brutish soldier named Barol muttered, "He's a shell of a man, now. Killing him would be a mercy."

An angry glare from Drak'har silenced Barol. However, as the meeting dispersed the commander found himself wondering if Barol was right. Hudson had agreed to serve him just for the sake of keeping his sister from harm. Now that she was gone, what did the human have to live for?

The commander made his way to the ground floor of the administrative center. A holding cell had been made for Hudson, and he was being kept under constant supervision. Drak'har tapped the lone guard on the shoulder and ordered, "Leave us." Once the other batarian was gone Drak'har turned his focus to the lone human in the cell.

Andrew Hudson's hair and beard had grown even messier. His knuckles had been bandaged and cleaned after being scraped in his fight with Rhoya, but Hudson had refuses any serious treatment. The human's features were pale and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Andrew."

His slave looked up at him gave Drak'har a look that sent chills down his spine. "What do you want?" Hudson asked. His voice was a raspy whisper. Full of pain. Drak'har considered his words for a moment.

"Some of my men are saying that I should kill Rhoya for what he did. Others are worried that what happened might cause an uprising amongst the other slaves. They say I should kill you."

Hudson chuckled bitterly. "Maybe you should listen to them. We humans tend to hold a grudge when you hurt someone we love." Keeping his voice low Drak'har firmly replied, " _Rhoya_ killed you sister."

"She'd still be alive if you hadn't given her to that piece of shit." Hudson remained seated on the other side of the cell bars, but he seemed to tense up as if about to lash out at Drak'har violently. "Perhaps. But that was not your decision to make," the batarian said resignedly.

His prisoner laughed again. "What, it just wasn't right with your _traditions?_ Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, your people's tradition of slavery might be wrong?" Hudson's look turned to one of contempt.

"Maybe an Alliance patrol just needs to find _your_ family and kill them. Then you might get just a little perspective."

Drak'har clenched his fist and advanced closer to the cell.

"Do not mock me," he said angrily. "I am the only reason you are still alive, and I will not allow you to disrespect my people's legacy…" Hudson stood up slowly and began to move forward as well. When he was only inches from the barrier between himself and Drak'har the human stopped.

"I watched my sister die. Saw all of my friends slaughtered, and you still haven't killed the bastard responsible. Do you really think I'm still afraid of death?"

Drak'har looked at him sadly. "No, I don't suppose you are," he said. "If it gives you any comfort, know that Rhoya will answer for what he did." He narrowed his eyes.

"If that is not enough to ease your pain, then there is nothing more I can do."

"Nothing more you're _willing_ to do," Hudson retorted.

A long silence settled over the cell. Drak'har wrestled with himself what to do next. Once again he considered the truth in Barol's words, that killing Hudson now would be almost a mercy. He wondered if the humans believed in an afterlife as the batarians did.

Would Hudson's sister be waiting for him?

Finally Drak'har sighed in resignation and made his choice. "Tonight Rhoya will be interrogated as to how he caused the massacre. And once we have learned all we can, Rhoya will be executed." His eyes locked with Hudson's. "And if you truly wish for death… Then I will grant your wish."

Hudson continued to scowl at him. "Anything else, _Master?_ "

Drak'har shook his head. "No." he said bluntly. Another pause hung over them, and when it was clear the human had nothing more to say to Drak'har the slaver left Hudson to his thoughts.

* * *

Andrew paced around his cell as the evening turned into night, wondering what to do.

How would batarians execute one of their own? Would they do it in private, or in a ceremony in front of all their troops? Would any slaves be present? Andrew wondered if he would be allowed to see it happen. But the more he thought about it, the more pointless it seemed.

Why did it matter how and when Rhoya was killed? Jolene was dead.

Andrew sat at the back of the cell and pressed his hands to the sides of his head as the memories of three days ago came flooding back. His knuckles throbbed and Andrew could almost feel Rhoya's face caving in beneath his fist.

He tried to think about tomorrow, but all Andrew could see when he closed his eyes was Jolene's dead face staring back at him. Andrew's stomach churned and he felt as if he were going to be sick again.

 _It's your fault_ , a voice in the back of his head told him. _Jolene took that knife for_ ** _you_** _._

"No," he whispered in agony. "It was _them._ " Andrew's grief gave way to anger, and his thoughts turned to Rhoya and the rest. He felt like such an idiot for thinking that he or Jolene had a chance. They were property to these slavers, nothing more.

Andrew thought about what Drak'har told him. He promised justice for what Rhoya had done.

 _But it's not going to bring Jolene back._

Andrew's stomach turned and Andrew realized that it wasn't sickness that was gnawing at him. It was hunger. When was the last time he had eaten?

As if on cue the door to the hallway opened and the batarian guard from earlier returned. He was carrying a tray of food and a canteen. "Go ahead, human. Might be your last meal, so enjoy." He dropped the tray to the floor callously, causing the canteen to spill and some of the food to scatter.

Moving fast Andrew propped the canteen upright, saving some of the water. He looked down at the tray, seeing a dry chunk of meet and a stick of what looked like bread. Not a very appealing meal, but food was food.

The guard sneered down at Andrew before turning to leave. But Andrew called after him, "Wait!" The guard looked back. "What?" he asked irritably. Andrew took a sip from the canteen, wetting his parched throat.

"What did you and your people find out about Rhoya?"

With a shrug the guard replied, "Not much. We know that fifteen slaves had their implants tampered with. The implants were triggered and sent them into a rampage." Andrew set his water down. "Who was it?" The guard shook his head.

"Don't know. We'll find out eventually. Now get some sleep, human." He walked back out to wait in the hallway before Andrew could ask him anything more. Obviously the guard wasn't worried about Andrew trying anything in the night.

Once again alone in his cell, Andrew ate in silence. The meal was stale and bland but again he reminded himself it was better than nothing. When he was done, Andrew looked out a small window in the wall. The sun had already set, and the colony was almost dead silent.

He could feel himself growing tired. Whatever the next day had in store for Andrew, he wasn't going to be able to face it if he lost any more sleep. Andrew lay down on the cot provided for him and closed his eyes. This time, he forced himself to picture Rhoya struggling under him.

If Rhoya paid for his sister's death, and the deaths of his friends, it didn't matter what happened to Andrew.

Or to anyone else.

 ** _..._**

"Wake up!"

A sharp rapping on the cell door caused Andrew to wake with a start. He rubbed his eyes groggily and stood up from the cot to face the same guard from the night before. "Everyone's ready," the batarian grunted. He opened the door to Andrew's cell, grasping the trigger to his implant of Andrew tried anything.

Walking out cautiously Andrew asked, "For what?" The guard took him by the shoulder, leading him through the front entrance of the administrative center.

"For the execution."

A small assembly of batarian soldiers was gathered around them. Greyon Drak'har was at the head with his arms crossed authoritavely. Rhoya Xafehr was standing in the open facing the group, stripped of his armor and, to Andrew's delight, battered and bruised.

Drak'har noticed Andrew's arrival and unfolded his arms. "Good. Now we may proceed." He opened his omni-tool.

"Rhoya Xafehr. You are guilty of violating the terms of your ownership of a human slave and plotting a massacre of the slaves belonging to your fellow soldiers. You have refused to divulge the identity of those who aided you in your scheme, and are hereby sentenced to die."

Rhoya shot commander and Andrew a hateful look. Drak'har continued, "If you confess now and provide the name we seek, then you may be granted a burial on the Khar'shan. The homeworld."

He reached down and pulled a gun from its holster. The pistol was an antique weapon, covered in dents and scratches from over the years. Drak'har switched off the safety with an audible _click_. "If you do not," he said threateningly, "Then your corpse will be left here to rot when we depart this world."

His eyes darted to one of his men. The soldier took Rhoya by the shoulders and forced him to the ground. Rhoya grunted painfully before snarling, "I do have something to say. To both you and your pet."

Rhoya spat on the ground in front of Andrew. "This is a farce! All of it!" Andrew had to be restrained as the slaver looked at him with a contemptuous glare and growled, "Your sister was a worthless little whore. She's better off dead."

"And you…" Rhoya turned his anger to Drak'har. "For all your bluster about stopping keeping humans in their place, all you've done is protect this one." Drak'har glared down at him.

"He was my slave, do with as I wish."

"And she was mine!" Rhoya shouted. "She was my property…" He was cut off when Drak'har struck him across the face with his gun. "Jolene Hudson was given to you on the condition that you not abuse valuable property out of spite."

Drak'har gestured to Andrew. "And your actions have cost us many lives. Lives that may have been put to good use serving us. And do you not remember the soldiers who were killed by your foolishness? You have brought shame upon us all." This drew another furious look from Rhoya and he spit at Drak'har again. This time a fleck of blood splattered across the commander's foot.

"The only shame is if you don't kill Hudson too. He attacked me, and in the process insulted all of us. But you care about him more than you do the soldiers who follow you." Drak'har's other lieutenants shifted uncomfortably. Their leader seemed to register their doubts and yelled, "Enough!"

Rhoya turned towards Andrew. "Looks like you're going to have to prove yourself, sir. Kill Hudson." Drak'har laughed at him harshly. "And prove myself a coward? Like you? I think not."

His prisoner smiled, and the blood dripping from his mouth gave him a feral appearance. "Oh, I think you will. If you shoot him now, I'll give you the name of my contact. Contact Twenty-one."

Andrew's heart skipped a beat and the batarians around them shared nervous glances. Drak'har cocked his head at Rhoya. "And what then? Do you expect me to spare your life if you do?" The prisoner shook his head bitterly.

"No. Just consider it one last favor from your _faithful_ servant." He seemed to sense Andrew's fear and rose to his feet confidently, even as Drak'har pointed his gun straight at his forehead. "So what's it going to be?"

For a minute Drak'har glared at Rhoya, and Andrew expected him to fire without saying another word. After all, why would he listen to the bastard now? Rhoya had to die.

But as he watched in horror, Drak'har redirected his pistol towards Andrew. "Master…"

"Think of what he is offering, Hudson," the batarian said softly. "If he tells us who provided him with those tampered implants and killed your friends, we will execute them." He glanced at Rhoya. "Both of them."

Andrew said desperately, "And what if he's lying? Rhoya's just trying to weasel his way out again, just like when he bough Jolene." He pointed at Rhoya angrily. "Are you a man of your word, Master? If you are, then kill _him._ "

"Do not presume to command me," Drak'har barked. "You yourself told me that death is no longer something you fear. If one of my own lieutenants was able to conduct operations without my knowledge, then every single one of my men is at risk…"

" _I DON'T CARE!_ " Andrew bellowed. "I don't give a shit about your customs, your laws, and I don't care how many of you batarian fucks die!" There was a buzzing in his ears growing louder by the second, and the guard on his left was forced to restrain Andrew from charging at Drak'har.

"If you're going to kill me too, go ahead and do it," he hissed. "You've already taken everything from me. Might as well finish what you started, right?"

As the buzzing in his ears grew louder Andrew could barely hear Drak'har's angry response. Suddenly, he spotted three small shapes on the horizon. They were coming in fast and soon a deafening roar echoed around them.

The batarians noticed it too. Rhoya flinched and fell to his knees again. Drak'har raised his pistol as if by instinct.

But Andrew was rooted in place, staring blankly as three Alliance fighters flew over their heads. A second later, two batarian ships that had been docked at the side of a nearby building exploded.

Andrew was knocked off his feet and grunted in pain as he hit the concrete. For a second he felt numb, and the only thing Andrew could hear was a dull ringing sound. Clumsily, Andrew tried to stand up but his legs felt like jelly.

" _The Alliance! To your battle stations, quickly!_ "

The first think Andrew could make out was Drak'har yelling orders to his men. He shook his head and managed to rise to his knees before collapsing again. Looking around him Andrew saw the whole urban center erupting into chaos.

Drak'har had run to cover and opened his omni-tool, likely to organize a counter-attack. Other batarians were clutching their heads in pain, still dazed from the explosion. But just as Andrew felt ready to get up he froze.

Rhoya had disappeared.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Yeah, it took the Alliance long enough to get here.**

 **A strike force has been sent to liberate the colony, and fight of the batarian invaders. Good news, right?**

 **Right?**

 **...Well, if it's an all-out battle that means people are going to die.**

 **Leave a review below if you like, and I'll see you next time!**


	9. Vengeance

**Warning: Character deaths, graphic violence and sequences of torture follow.**

* * *

" ** _Razor 2, on your left!_** "

" ** _I've got him, Razor 1. You owe me, 2!_** "

As the Alliance squadrons engaged in spectacular dogfights with enemy fighters, large cruisers bombarded the batarian vessels even as they lifted off the ground to face them.

Shuttles carrying Alliance marines had landed on the outskirts of the colony's center, and were engaging the batarians' ground forces. Taking advantage of the distraction, human slaves were fleeing from their masters to be rescued by Alliance patrols. Some even took the chance to fight back, paying their masters back for months of suffering.

In the midst of the chaos Rhoya Xafehr dodged and weaved his way through the bombed out streets, looking for a place to hide. He swore loudly as a fighter was sent careening into a building above him. Rhoya sprinted away before the wreckage came down on him.

"Damn humans…"

Muttering to himself angrily Rhoya didn't notice a batarian soldier coming his way until they crashed into each other. "What are you doing here, Xafehr?" the soldier asked frantically. Rhoya shoved him away snarling, "Getting the hell out of here is what I'm doing."

Rhoya looked around for some way to escape. "If you need to get away, come to the barracks," the other batarian said. "Some of us are stocking up on weapons, and we're going to make a break for our last cruiser." Rhoya's eyes narrowed. "The cruisers are back _there._ "

He jabbed his thumb back towards the colony's center, which was quickly escalating into an all-out war zone.

The other batarian nodded grimly. "I know. Come with me, you're still our prisoner." Rhoya gritted his teeth and said softly, "No, I'm not." Another explosion overhead caused the soldier to look up, distracted.

In a flash Rhoya seized his pistol and fired two shots into the soldier's neck. "Sorry. But I'm done following orders." Rhoya picked up the corpse and dragged him to a street corner. Once he was sure they were alone, Rhoya began to strip his armor and helmet.

Picking up the dead soldier's comm-link Rhoya shouted into it, "Twenty-one, come in." There was nothing on the other end but static. "Can you hear me?" After a second he heard his contact on the other line.

" _Can't stay-Rhoya, we need-get now!_ "

"Yeah, no shit." Rhoya peered around the corner and saw one Alliance cruiser headed his way. "Okay…" Hastily he began to don the dead batarian's armor. But a rustling noise behind him caused Rhoya to raised his pistol and look up in alarm.

He scanned the area, expecting to see a marine or another batarian. Rhoya couldn't see anything, but he knew that if he was getting out of this alive he had to move. Strapping a holster to his leg but keeping the pistol drawn, Rhoya moved in a blur.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over Rhoya and he heard a metallic scraping noise. By the time he moved to shoot whomever it was they had knocked the gun from his hand.

Rhoya shouted and cursed as his hand flared in pain and doubled over as he was struck again in the stomach. He suppressed the urge to vomit, looking to see who it was. His heart dropped.

It was Hudson.

The human was standing over him, covered in dust and fragments of rubble. Hudson was clutching a heavy-looking piece of metal railing, and his face was twisted in a hateful glare. Rhoya stared up at him in horror as the human raised the metal bar again.

This couldn't be happening. Rhoya had killed Hudson's pathetic sister right in front of him. He'd humiliated him in front of his own master. He'd _broken_ him. But now this human, this slave, had Rhoya completely at his mercy.

Rhoya could do nothing but let out a strangled cry as Hudson brought the railing down on his head.

* * *

"Wake up."

Rhoya's eyes shot open as he regained consciousness. But seconds later they screwed shut again and the batarian convulsed violently. He was in the living room of a human house, tied into a chair with various cables. The side of his head was swelling. The lights were out, and Rhoya looked around desperately.

"Wh-where am I?"

Andrew stepped into the dim light shining through a nearby window. He guessed he looked rather menacing, as Rhoya's eyes widened in terror when he saw Andrew. "You don't recognize this place?" His voice was soft, but Andrew allowed some of his boiling anger to show.

"No," Rhoya said, still dazed and confused. "Should I?"

Andrew's eyes narrowed and he opened a door to the front of the house. "Take a look." Outside the door was a street littered with craters and the wreckage of skycars. "Two months ago you attacked my sister and I right there…" Andrew pointed to a crashed car on the sidewalk, and looked back at Rhoya threateningly.

"Every day I've thought about that night. What I might have done differently, how I could have saved her." He closed the door slowly and approached Rhoya. "I'm going to ask you a couple of questions. And try to answer honestly, otherwise…"

The slaver began to spasm again, this time more violently. " _Damn it, what are you-_ " Andrew held up a remote. "I hooked you up to the old power lines to the house." He gestured to Rhoya's legs, and the slaver gasped in horror.

Several metal spikes were jammed crudely into his thighs, connecting Rhoya to the wires tied around him.

"My dad was an engineer, and built our house all by himself. A lot of the tech we had to work with was from more than a hundred years ago. I figured I'd put some of the things he taught me to good use."

Andrew smiled in spite of himself. "I can crank the voltage just high enough so you won't die, but you'll _beg_ for it to happen. Now, first question. Do you have a family?" Rhoya spat a drop of blood at him, but Andrew barely even flinched. Looking up at Andrew with contempt he finally sighed in resignation.

"No, I don't."

"I didn't think so." Andrew began to pace around his prisoner, thumbing the remote as to keep Rhoya on edge. "You don't seem like the type who knows what it's like to actually love someone. To know that you'd do anything for them. To actually give a damn if they live or die."

When he was right behind the batarian Andrew continued, "Next question. If I don't like what I hear, or if I think for a second you're lying to me I'll do _worse_ than just pump a few hundred volts into you." He grabbed Rhoya's bloody head roughly and turned him towards himself.

"Who was your contact back at the gym? Who helped you murder Jolene?"

Rhoya stared at him blankly for a minute. It was hard to tell just what he was thinking, but Andrew could guess it involved their positions reversed. A part of himself wished he'd learned just how to torture a batarian. All the ways to make one suffer, wish they were dead.

But another part of Andrew knew that he could never cause Rhoya as much pained as the bastard had caused him.

The thought caused Andrew to bare his teeth in anger and punch Rhoya in the chest. Rhoya's chair tipped over and he landed on his back, coughing and wheezing.

"I'm not in a very patient mood, you son of a bitch."

Andrew pressed the switch again, savoring Rhoya's twitching and cries of pain. When he was satisfied the batarian had enough he turned the makeshift torture device off. "That's how I felt every time one of you fuckers got trigger happy with my implant," Andrew snarled.

"After knocking you out I had to drag your carcass to a functioning skycar and take you back here. I thought about just what to do with you the entire way." He pulled Rhoya up to face him again. Blood dripped from his prisoner's nose and he blinked groggily.

Andrew seized one of the spikes in Rhoya's leg and twisted it until he was awake enough to face him, whimpering in pain the whole time.

"Now, last question. Who is 'Twenty-one'?"

Rhoya's expression was delirious as he retorted, "You'll find out soon enough, you piece of human trash!" He threw the words at Andrew in a rage, seeming not to care what happened now. "Your sister was a stupid little whore, and you're a pathetic little upstart who can't accept his place. _I should have killed you both when we first came here!_ "

Andrew gazed at Rhoya, expressionless. Then he nodded in agreement.

"For once… You're right."

He stood up and walked to the back of the house, still carrying the remote as well as the metal railing he used to knock out Rhoya. Through a shattered window he could hear the gunfire in the distance beginning to die down. Whether the Alliance managed to liberate the colony or the batarians somehow managed to repel them, Andrew didn't care.

Reaching the garage he found a small toolbox; another gift from his parents. Inside there were tools that could be used to repair broken switches, reconnect wires and unscrew fixtures from a wall.

But he had something else in mind.

Just as he picked up the box however, a scuffling noise from inside the house drew Andrew's attention. Picking up the metal bar he advanced slowly towards the living room. There was a muffled voice, and as Andrew drew closer he could begin to make it out.

"The human did a number on you, didn't he?"

"Shut up… _kaff…_ get me out of here."

"Yes, sir."

Peering around the corner to the living room Andrew saw a tall alien standing next to Rhoya. For a moment he thought it was another batarian, but upon closer inspection he was too tall. Too thin. A crest jutting from the back of his head and a slight distortion in his voice told Andrew that it was a turian.

Andrew watched in shock as the turian began to untie Rhoya His heart began to race and Andrew's hand clenched around the railing until his knuckles were white. Rhoya would _not_ get away from him, not now.

He let out a feral yell of rage and brought Rhoya to the floor with another jolt, as one of the spikes was still lodged deep in him. The turian reacted quickly as Andrew charged him, knocking the railing to the side and reaching for a sidearm on his leg.

A fierce headbutt from Andrew managed to catch the alien off balance. Desperately and without thought Andrew rained down blows on the turian, screaming as he finally released months of cold, pain and sorrow through each swing.

Only when his arms were leaden and his lungs burning did Andrew finally stop. He dropped the metal bar, it's entire length stained blue. Letting himself rest for just a moment Andrew dropped to his knees.

The turian coughed, spraying Andrew's chest with blue blood. "Let me guess," the human rasped with a growing sense of triumph beginning to swell in him. "You're contact twenty-one." The turian reached for the pistol at his side but Andrew beat him to it.

"Tell me something, if you're still able." Andrew cocked the gun and pointed it at the turian's forehead. "Would you mind telling me your name before I blow your brains out?"

He leaned forward, and as his face entered the light from outside the turian stopped his struggling. The alien's three-fingered hand rose up, trembling, and touched Andrew's cheek.

" _Hudson?_ "

That voice. Something familiar about the turian's voice caused Andrew to pause. Moving slowly and carefully he took the alien by the shoulder and lifted him up.

He saw a ruined, bloody face decorated with black tattoos. The turian's eyes were watering and he croaked, "I'm sorry… I didn't know…"

Andrew's mouth opened wide in shock. A memory came rushing back to him of a turian only half his age standing at the back of a classroom, and sitting at a table with him and Jolene on Thanksgiving.

"Cyrus?"

He didn't get an answer. Cyrus' hand dropped and his eyes faded. The young turian fell to the floor, dead.

Andrew's mind had gone blank. How could this be Cyrus, the same turian who had treated him as a teacher and as a friend? When had he joined the batarians? His stupor was broken by a choking sound behind him. No, not choking.

No. Not choking. Laughing.

Rhoya had propped himself up on one elbow and was shooting a lopsided grin at Andrew. "Heh, don't tell me you _knew_ that worm." Andrew's mouth worked silently before he found his voice again.

"How did you force him to work for you?"

" _Force him?_ " Rhoya laughed again. "He joined us _willingly_. Little Cyrus was just as afraid as anybody of your species. He became a spy for Drak'har and the rest of us about a year ago, and we sent him here. I don't think he expected you and Jolene to stay for long though, the sentimental little shit. He thought you would have been smart enough to go back where you came from."

His eyes rose mockingly, as if Rhoya were pondering something. "But if he were _really_ your friend, wouldn't he have told you what was coming anyway?" His laughter rang in Andrew's ears, and the human sat there trembling in impotent rage.

"You're _alone_ , human. You always were. And you always will be…"

Rhoya laughed until Andrew suddenly grew still and rose to his feet. Without saying a word he strolled to the garage once again. He reentered the room carrying the toolbox.

An eerie calm seemed to have settled over Andrew. The room was silent, with the only sound outside being the distant roar of fighter craft in the sky and explosions from the city.

Rhoya's smug demeanor was gone once again. His eyes were bulging out of his skull and the only sound coming from him was the soft drip of his bleeding nose on the floor. "Well." Andrew's tone barely rose above a whisper. "Looks like you gave me all the answers."

Kneeling over the incapacitated batarian Andrew pulled out a pair of pliers and examined them closely, wondering what to do with them.

"But I didn't like them."

* * *

Two Alliance shuttles strayed from the battle as it began to die down. The batarians had put up one hell of a fight, but without the help of the Hegemony's fleet it was only a matter of time before they were forced to surrender or died fighting.

One shuttle reached the colony's outskirts, a suburban community that looked abandoned but could hold stragglers or other slaves. "Let's take it nice and easy," the pilot ordered. "Have a look around, and take back any survivors ASAP."

The marines muttered a collective, "Yes sir," and emerged quickly as the shuttle landed. They scoured the surrounding area, examining different houses and other buildings.

After several minutes it didn't look as if the squad would find anything, and one by one they returned to the shuttle.

"Hold up! I've found something!"

One marine was at the other end of the street, waving enthusiastically at the rest of his troops. The shuttle pulled over, where the marine was waiting next to one survivor.

A human, thin and bearded. Covered in debris and blood.

"He seems to be in shock. Let's get him back to the administrative center, we'll check for an ID there." The leader of the squad helped the survivor into the craft as it lifted off, murmuring, "It's okay, son. You're safe."

But Andrew remained silent as they began to fly back. He only played with his hands, wondering how long it would take the marines to find out the blood staining his hands and front wasn't his.

* * *

 **Author's Note: What a tweest.** **Bet you thought Cyrus was a one-off character, huh?**

 **Nope.**

 **Andrew may have taken his revenge, but his troubles are far, FAR from over. His sister's dead, his life is in shambles, and the only alien he ever trusted was a mole. Things can't get much worse... Right?**

 **Leave a review if you like, and as always I will see you 'round!**


	10. Never to Return

**Feel free to play the track "Thessia Falls" as the chapter closes.**

 **It'll add to the effect.**

* * *

It took several hours for the Alliance force to cycle through the various refugees and get a proper ID on each of them. Some were overwhelmed with joy, unable to calm down. Others were quiet as if they expected something terrible to happen. As if the rescue was too good to be true.

Andrew sat at the back of a transport as it readied to leave, playing with the bandage on his arm from when one of the Alliance doctors had drawn blood for identification. The marines had been nice enough to offer clean clothes and a hot meal, something Andrew could barely even remember. He hadn't spoken to anyone or looked for survivors he might know. Andrew only wanted to be alone.

Only when a marine sat down next to him did Andrew finally look up. The soldier looked him up and down and asked, "Andrew Hudson?" The marine's voice was soft and reassuring. The soldier looked a decade older than Andrew. He wore a reassuring smile, but it did nothing to lift Andrew's spirits. "Yes," he replied quietly. The marine looked at the other passengers aboard the transport before continuing.

"I understand you've been trough a lot, kid. You probably don't want to talk to anyone right now, but I have to sort a few things out." The marine scrolled through a datapad. "I want you to know, the son of a bitch that led this invasion was captured. He'll answer for what he did. They all will."

When Andrew said nothing the marine said worriedly, "We uh… We understand that you have a sister." Andrew's fist clenched but he remained silent. Nodding slightly he asked, "What about it?"

"One of our teams recovered her body. It was being kept in a morgue of sorts. Apparently, our batarian friend Drak'har kept her from being thrown into a furnace like the others. He wanted the body kept for burial. Would you know anything about that?"

Andrew stared ahead, processing what the marine was telling him. A part of him wanted to speak to Drak'har himself. To thank him for showing his sister that courtesy.

But his gratitude quickly subsided, and was replaced by anger. If Drak'har really cared about him or Jolene he would have kept them both out of harm's way. He was a slaver. The bastard didn't really care about their safety or their happiness.

He was a batarian. Human life meant nothing to him or any of his people.

"No," Andrew said blankly. "I wouldn't."

The marine nodded, clearly oblivious to the lie. "Understood. I'm sorry for your loss." Raising his eyes back to Andrew's he said, "We're taking any other deceased back to their families. Seeing as you're the only immediate family, we thought you should have the last say on what to do with Jolene."

Andrew slumped back in his seat. He and Jolene had never talked about funerals, or what to do if something happened to either of them. Desperately, Andrew tried to think of something that would do his sister justice. Anything that would put all of this behind them both.

Suddenly a memory came back to him. A chilly breeze catching Andrew and his sister off guard as they stood over two graves on a damp autumn morning. He smiled in spite of himself, and wiped his wet eyes before answering the marine.

"There's a small cemetery just outside of Chicago," he murmured. When he hesitated the marine nodded encouragingly. "Go on, son." Andrew took a shaky breath. "Our mom and dad are both buried there. On our last day on Earth Jolene and I visited them one more time."

He stared right into the marine's eyes and said pleadingly, "My sister doesn't belong in a mausoleum on some colony world, do you understand? I want her _home._ " Andrew ignored the lump in his throat and asked, "Can you do that for me?"

The soldier gazed at him sympathetically and replied, "Of course." He stood up and walked out of the transport. Andrew felt a sudden desire to say something to the man, and raced to the door. "Wait," he shouted. The marine looked back at him. "Yes?"

"Where are we being taken?" The marine grinned. "You're going to the Citadel, kid. Maybe I'll see you there, my platoon's going to have to take some shore leave after today." He waved sadly. "Good luck, Andrew."

The Citadel? Andrew felt winded, and staggered back to his seat while the transport doors closed. He felt the ship lift off from the ground and sighed deeply. Looking out the window Andrew glanced at the colony growing smaller and smaller beneath them. He thought about looking for his and Jolene's house for just a second, but thought better of it.

A million questions were racing through his head. What would he find on the Citadel? What was in store for him now?

Andrew could think of no answer. Instead he rested in his seat and took in the sight as the Alliance ship lifted off from Mindoir, never to return.

* * *

 **Author's Note: So ends the first arc of The Beast.**

 **I apologize for the short length, but this is more of an epilogue to one part of the story. The next one will be longer.** **Andrew has left Mindoir, and as I made clear he is never coming back.**

 **We'll pick up after some time has passed. Andrew will face new challenges after picking up the pieces of his broken life, and he'll run into a familiar ice queen who will lead him into the next part of his journey...**

 **Leave a review below if you like, and I will see you next time!**


	11. Prejudice

**May 13, 2174**

"And how did the First Contact War come to its end? Anyone?"

It was a hot afternoon in London, as Shanxi Memorial High School's soon-to-be 'Class of 2174' sat in silence while their history teacher reached the end of his lecture. Today's topic was the colonization of different world and First Contact. The teacher leaned against a podium at the front of the class, looking around and waiting for one student to answer.

After a brief shuffling of notes a girl in the front row raised her hand. "Yes, Emily?" The teacher smiled warmly while Emily cleared her throat and responded. "The war ended after the liberation of Shanxi by the Second Fleet. Both species readied for war the Citadel Council managed to negotiate a truce before things got that much worse."

Andrew Hudson looked down at Emily, nodding approvingly. "That's correct. The Council knew that humanity was better equipped and better prepared than the turians had expected." He pointed to a slide behind him, showing the effect of a bombing raid on Shanxi. "A war between one of their own races and a newcomer like humanity wouldn't have ended well for anyone."

Looking at a clock and noticing that he had only four minutes left in class Andrew quickly shut off the slides and turned the classroom lights back on. His hair was starting to grey at the temples, and the lines in his face had grown deeper. Andrew had decided to keep his beard, trimming it to a manageable length.

He was forty-one years old now, but one could have easily mistaken him for fifty.

"Any questions before we finish for today?" he asked. Two hands shot into the air and he pointed to the closest one, a student named Clark. "I was curious, Mr. Hudson. You have these photos from Shanxi and you know a lot about it. Did you live there?" Andrew laughed uncomfortably. "No," he replied.

"I was just very interested in the subject. After all, if I didn't know my own material what kind of teacher would I be?"

The class snickered while Andrew moved to the next student. Kevin Lane looked nervous, as if worried if his question would throw Andrew off. "Some people treat the incident at Relay 314 as an unprovoked attack. But weren't the turians, at least in their own view, just upholding Council law?" Kevin's voiced faltered towards the end as some of the other students gave him surprised looks.

Andrew's fingers drummed against his podium, as the classroom grew silent. His ears burned. That was a bold question for Kevin to ask. Was he trying to shift blame away from the turians?

Trying to hide his irritation Andrew stated flatly, "I can see your point, Kevin. But that still doesn't change the fact that the turians fired on our explorers rather than try to talk things out. That's what started the whole mess to begin with." Kevin shrugged but still looked unsure.

"I understand. But still, looking at things at least from their perspective we could understand…"

Waving his hand dismissively Andrew cut him off. "From _their_ perspective we were just primitive aliens who needed to be taught a lesson. It's that simple, Kevin." His voice sounded angrier than he expected. Silencing himself Andrew scanned the class. Some of them were smirking at Kevin or nodding approvingly.

But others, like Emily and Kevin, looked apprehensive. Even frightened.

Had Andrew really come across so hostile? A bell outside interrupted his thoughts and he hastily assorted his materials while stammering, "I, uh… I think that's it for today. We'll pick up next week on humanity's relations with other species. Have a good weekend."

The class seemed to practically race out the door. Soon Andrew was left alone to pack his own supplies, as he too was finished for the day. While readying to leave he berated himself for reacting the way he did. Kevin was surely going to talk to his parents about this. But soon Andrew's anxiety gave way to frustration.

What would Kevin say, that his teacher acted _snippy_ towards him? It was his own fault for asking such a pointless question.

Andrew had done nothing wrong.

He left the classroom in a rush and went into his own office. After some grading and preparing his next lecture Andrew would be ready to go home and get some well-needed rest. For half an hour he worked quietly before he heard a knocking on his office door. "Come on in," he said and looked up.

Andrew's stomach turned when he saw it was the school's principal. Franklin Neeson was a decade older than him, a stern looking man who took his job and the jobs of all his staff quite seriously. And as he walked in, Andrew could tell that he was quite angry.

"We need to talk," Neeson said sharply and closed the door behind him. Andrew leaned back as Neeson sat across from him, doing his best to remain casual. "Something wrong?" The principal's eyes narrowed. "I should say so. I just got a call from Richard Lane. His son's a student of yours, correct?"

Slowly, Andrew nodded. "Yes." A sinking feeling in his gut told him that his initial doubts about what happened in class might not have been so far off. Neeson glared at him and continued.

"Apparently you and his son had something of a disagreement concerning the First Contact War. From the sound of things you didn't take very kindly to Kevin even _suggesting_ a different side to the conflict." Andrew tried to retort but Neeson wouldn't let him. "You made a point of embarrassing him in front of the class, and some of the other students have already started to harass Kevin over this, saying he's sympathizing with _the enemy_.

Is that the kind of sentiment you're trying to encourage as a teacher?"

Were things really that bad? Suddenly feeling very hot Andrew stood up from his desk and opened the window. It was starting to cool down outside, and he took in the breeze for a moment before he answered Neeson. Andrew wanted to make it clear this wasn't what he had wanted.

"I admit, I got a little carried away. I'll make sure to apologize to Kevin and his parents as soon as I can."

Neeson's demeanor grew skeptical. "I'm sure they'll appreciate it, but I don't think you're seeing the bigger picture here." Andrew crossed his arms defiantly. "Bigger picture? I don't think I follow." His boss stood up and glowered at Andrew from across the desk.

"This isn't the first time something like this has happened, Hudson. You've been here for a whole year, and any time the subject matter of human-alien relations turns up in your class, people start talking." His tone grew more frustrated. "Some students have used words like 'xenophobic' or 'paranoid'."

Andrew gritted his teeth. His ears were burning and without thinking he took a step towards Neeson threateningly. "Is that what they say? Mr. Neeson, I'm not doing anything wrong." The principal raised his eyebrows. "Aren't you?" Allowing his own frustration to rise Andrew retorted, "No I'm not.

He pointed outside, where students were being picked up by their parents or walking to their own skycars. "I've only told my students the truth. It's a dangerous galaxy out there, and nobody's looking out for us. You think the turians are teaching their own children any different?" Not even looking to where he was pointing Neeson rolled his eyes in a way that made Andrew want to punch him.

"I don't think this is really about the turians, Hudson." Andrew's mind went blank. "What?" Neeson turned around as if checking the door to the office was still closed. He looked back at Andrew and said softly, "Look, I understand you think you're just trying to help.

But the way you're doing it, half of these kids might go off hunting batarians."

It felt like a wire at the back of Andrew's mind was growing hotter and hotter. "You're starting to tread on thin ice here," he growled. The younger man moved closer and when he was face to face with Neeson the principal murmured, "You need to hear this, Hudson. When you applied for a position here, I learned what happened to you and I made a choice to trust your judgment. I trusted that you'd be able to set aside your own prejudice and…"

"Prejudice?" Andrew interrupted Neeson and didn't notice his tone growing louder. "Don't give me that bullshit. You and I both know that if a batarian had us at gunpoint right now, there'd be nothing to stop him pulling the trigger. And he would, Neeson." Waving his arms angrily he continued to rant.

"I don't know if you're aware, but almost the whole galaxy looks at us and sees a bunch of bullies, ignorant little savages who are a threat to their high and mighty Council. We're on our own, Neeson. And if you tell yourself otherwise you're just kidding yourself."

Not willing to explain himself to the old man any longer Andrew picked up his own bag and marched past Neeson. Before he could leave however Neeson said calmly, "I'll let that tantrum slide, Hudson. Bringing up Mindoir wasn't very tactful of me. But when you come back to work next week I want you to take your job seriously…" He locked his eyes with Andrew.

"And cut the propaganda."

Andrew didn't answer him. Instead he walked out of the office and straight to his car. He'd had enough of this shit for one day.

* * *

That evening Andrew reached his apartment, tired and angry. His thoughts kept returning to earlier that day, and what happened in class. What was Andrew supposed to be sorry for? If Kevin and his parents couldn't take a little harsh truth, then that was their problem.

Neeson could preach to Andrew all he liked about fairness and, it wouldn't change a thing.

Andrew parked his skycar and shut off the news program that had been playing on the console. Westerlund News anchor Khalisah al-Jilani was reporting on a recent development on the Citadel concerning the human embassies.

He stepped out and locked his car, but when Andrew started to make his way for the entrance to his apartment he heard a woman's voice behind him. "Andrew Hudson?" Freezing on the spot Andrew took a moment before turning around. The woman's voice was light and graceful. But her appearance had Andrew gaping.

The woman approaching him from around the corner of his apartment, where she had apparently been waiting. The first thing Andrew had noticed what the accent in her voice, likely Australian. But as she came closer he saw that she was stunningly beautiful. Cascades of dark hair flowed down to the woman's shoulders, and her eyes were a striking blue.

The woman stopped in front of Andrew and he replied, "Yes," blankly. She smiled and held out her hand politely.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Miranda Lawson."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Welcome back everybody, as we begin our second arc in Andrew Hudson's story.**

 **Things aren't going very swimmingly for poor Andrew. But is that going to change as the cheerleader herself enters the picture? Only time will tell.**

 **Post any reviews or questions if you like!**


	12. Make a Difference

"I'm Miranda Lawson."

Andrew stared at the woman. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to know you?" Miranda slowly lowered her hand when it was clear he wouldn't return the gesture. "No. But it's a pleasure to meet _you_ Mr. Hudson." Andrew's eyes narrowed and he examined her appearance more closely.

Miranda Lawson was tall and held a commanding presence one would expect from someone in the military. But her black and white outfit clearly wouldn't fit Alliance regulations. It clung to her body like a second skin, and it was hard for Andrew not to blush as he noticed that Miranda's form was quite attractive. The catsuit showed off her long legs, and from how curvaceous Miranda was she likely caught many stares wherever she went.

Snapping back to reality Andrew glanced around them to see if Miranda had any company. When he didn't see anyone else he asked, "How do you know who I am?" Andrew tried to guess where she was from and a dozen possibilities raced through his mind. "Are you with the Alliance military?" Miranda's smile shifted to an amused smirk.

"Hardly. I'm with an independent group that seeks out and helps people like you. People who have suffered gross injustices and hope to do something better for their people."

Miranda paused. "Something the Alliance hasn't done a very good job of," she added. Miranda noticed Andrew's eyes darting back and forth and asked politely, "Could we perhaps discuss this inside?" Andrew hesitated, still wary of just how much this woman knew about him.

It didn't look like she was armed, but something about Miranda told him that she was more than ready for a fight at any time.

"What can I expect if I let you in?" he replied carefully. Miranda's eyebrows quirked. "You're a very cautious man. I like that." Taking a step closer she said, "I promise I'm not here to cause you any trouble, Mr. Hudson. I just came to talk, and to make you an offer. If that's alright with you, of course."

Andrew considered her words for a moment. If Miranda was being honest she was probably just a member of one of those activist group that helped refugees and veterans. Nothing to be afraid of. And if she wanted to harm him in any way he doubted Miranda would have been so patient with him.

"Okay, come on in." Andrew led Miranda to the front door and unlocked it, letting her walk inside first. "Thank you," she said warmly and shot him another dazzling smile. He followed her in and warned, "Apologies in advance. I would have straightened up if I knew someone was coming." Miranda looked back at him in puzzlement before she saw what Andrew was referring to.

His apartment was well organized and clean for the most part. But in the corner of his living room was a disorganized pile of notes from work and letters from old friends he had no wish to see again. "It's quite alright," Miranda replied. "You're obviously busy." She sat down on his couch and crossed her legs casually while Andrew sat opposite her in an armchair.

"So," she remarked, "I imagine you have a few questions. Why I know so much about you and who I work for."

Andrew nodded. "You're right on the mark there." Wanting to be as clear as possible he leaned forward and looked Miranda right in the eye. "I try my best to avoid people knowing some of the things you suggested earlier. So if I don't like what I hear I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Miranda simply gazed at him passively and nodded before she spoke again.

"I understand completely why you'd be so... apprehensive, Mr. Hudson. After a tragedy like Mindoir I can't imagine things have been easy. Now as for why I'm here, I've been gathering learning everything I can about you for a week. I work for a secretive group called Cerberus."

The hair on the back of Andrew's neck stood on end. He had heard enough on the news to know that the name Cerberus was a major red flag. "You're working for terrorists?" he asked incredulously. Miranda frowned and shook her head. Despite his accusatory choice of words she didn't seem distressed. Only annoyed.

"Andrew," Miranda replied in exasperation, "Cerberus is not a terrorist organization. Despite everything the Alliance tells you they're only interested in humanity's protection." When Andrew remained skeptical she leaned to the side and raised her eyebrows.

"Go ahead and tell me something you've heard about Cerberus. Anything."

Thinking back to a report in 2165 Andrew retorted, "How about when they tried to steal antimatter from an Alliance ship? The _Geneva_?" Miranda grinned as if expecting this answer. "And was anyone killed in this horrific terrorist attack?" Andrew's mouth opened, then shut again. "No," he said as his ears burned. Sure enough the reports had suggested no casualties in the Cerberus raid on the _Geneva_ , except for all but one member of the operation.

"If Cerberus were the terrorists some say, why didn't they just destroy the ship and take the antimatter then?" Not waiting for him to answer Miranda pointed at Andrew and continued, "Because our goal is _survival._ You've known it for a while, the galaxy it a dangerous place. Human colonies are vulnerable to raids from the batarians, the turians, and whatever else might be out there.

The Council is unwilling to give our species a fair chance at proving ourselves, and the Alliance isn't going to take the necessary steps to prevent another disaster like the First Contact War."

Andrew stared at Miranda, unable to think of a retort.

"Cerberus is doing what everyone else is afraid to," Miranda said forcefully. "We gather loyal soldiers and scientists, anyone who's willing to take action. We're halting anti-human activists and researching new weapons and strategies in case of another war." She gestured to her chest, where Andrew could see a small black insignia standing out amidst the whiteness of her suit.

"We're people with a cause. And that cause is keeping humanity safe. And keeping anyone from suffering what you and Jolene suffered."

The mention of his sister caused Andrew to clench his fist and stand up from his chair angrily. Miranda raised her hand. "I'm sorry. I let myself get carried away there." She looked up at him again. "Sorry," she said again earnestly. Andrew simmered for a moment before he sat back down.

"That was one hell of a pitch. I'm guessing that's why you're really here, right? To recruit me into your little gang?" He expected Miranda to evade the question or take offense to calling Cerberus a gang. But to his surprise she chuckled.

"Oh, Cerberus is hardly a gang. We've recruited more than our fair share over the years." A moment later she straightened up and her demeanor grew more serious.

"But to answer your question, yes. I _am_ asking you to join us." Andrew was caught off guard by her honesty. Usually when someone from a religious group of political party approached him they were vague or played it safe when asking for his participation.

But Miranda had gotten straight to the point.

Andrew gestured around at his apartment awkwardly. "And what exactly could I do for Cerberus? I'm just a history teacher." Miranda matter-of-factly shrugged and replied, "A teacher with a degree in political science and an impressive knowledge of galactic history. And who has firsthand experience with the dangers humans face out there."

She gestured at the pile of work files in the corner. "If you put that to good use as an informant, you could prove a great help. And instead of reliving the past, you'd be making a difference for our future." Miranda sat silently for a minute to let Andrew process this before she stood up and walked towards the door.

"I'll let you think about it. If you're fine drudging about and being seen as a bitter malcontent by the ones you're trying to help, that's up to you…" The Cerberus agent opened her omni-tool and did something Andrew couldn't make out.

"But if you want to do something that matters, to make a difference, meet me tomorrow morning."

Andrew's omni-tool, which had been taken off when they entered the house, buzzed nearby. He walked over to it and activated it. The omni-tool flared to life and an image of Manchester Airport popped up. Andrew looked back to the door and asked, "And then what?"

But he got no answer. The door was hanging open, and Miranda was gone.

* * *

Miranda sat in the back of a skycar as it flew away from Andrew's apartment in Westminster. It had been a long and tiring day, but she had done her job. If she was right, and she usually was, then she would be seeing Andrew again the next day.

The vehicle took her to a facility on the southwest edge of London, and she quickly got out and marched inside. The base had once been a small office building but Cerberus had procured it recently, and turned it into a center for surveillance and intel gathering. She went through processing, as always, before going to a communications room at the back of the base.

She stood on a circular platform in the center of the room, looking directly towards the back wall. After several seconds the lights in the room dimmed before the room shifted around Miranda. The blank walls around her disappeared and were replaced with the image of large room illuminated by the light of a massive star.

Transparent walls around the room showed off the void of space around Miranda, but she looked directly ahead to the man sitting across from her. He was slouched in his chair with a cigarette in one hand, his form just a black outline against the star behind him. The man's only discernible feature in this light was his eyes, a bright glowing blue thanks to exposure to an ancient alien relic.

The Illusive Man took a long drag on his cigarette before asking calmly, "I take it your latest assignment was a success?" Miranda shrugged. "I'm not sure. Hudson didn't take my offer with much enthusiasm. I left him with a way to contact me in case he comes around, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."

While she explained the situation the Illusive Man regarded her with the same stoic look she had seen countless times. He regarded her for a minute then sat up straighter in his chair, showing his face more clearly. Smiled confidently the Illusive Man stated, "I would. Hudson endured atrocities that would break most people. He's stronger than even he knows."

The leader of Cerberus took another puff of his cigarette. "Give him the time he needs to think it over, and he'll come to us." Miranda nodded dutifully, hiding her doubts. "Understood," she said flatly and the hologram of the Illusive Man's office faded. The room returned to normal and Miranda was left in silence again.

Miranda's first impression of Andrew Hudson wasn't exactly optimistic, but she had learned to trust the Illusive Man's instincts. And more than that she felt a degree of sympathy for this potential recruit more than others she had met recently. He had lost a sister.

And if Miranda could do anything to help Andrew avenge her, she would.

* * *

Andrew tossed and turned in his bed as his thoughts kept returning to earlier that afternoon.

Miranda Lawson's words had stuck with him all day, and as hard as Andrew tried he couldn't get her out of his head. As afraid as feared being linked with a group labeled as terrorists Lawson's words rang uncomfortably true. He couldn't count the number of times he'd woken up from nightmares of what happened on Mindoir. What he'd seen done to his sister, and what he had done to Cyrus.

He saw Rhoya's dead, lifeless face staring at him, mutilated beyond recognition. Andrew could still remember the moment the batarian's life had faded away, how he'd forced the Rhoya to look him in the eye as he finally succumbed to Andrew's hours of torture.

And how even when his vengeance was finished Jolene was gone, and would never come back. He'd promised to keep her safe and he'd failed.

But if there was the smallest chance that by joining Cerberus Andrew could save another family from suffering their fate, shouldn't he take it? The Alliance didn't do anything to help him and Jolene until it was too late. But if Miranda was telling the truth Cerberus would make it so that people like them wouldn't need saving.

Andrew wasn't going to figure this out overnight, and he rolled onto his side trying to get some sleep before he made his choice tomorrow. But even as he started to grow tired and his eyelids drooped Miranda's last words echoed in his mind.

 _If you want to do something that matters… to make a difference…_

* * *

 **Author's Note: Andrew's come to a bit of a crossroads in his life. There's no going back.**

 **I enjoyed getting to finally write a section with Miranda and the Illusive Man. The Mass Effect games feature some of the best characters I've seen in any game, and it's great to finally be writing a story featuring them. We'll see more of those two, along with other familiar and... despicable Cerberus faces.**

 **Leave a review if you like, and expect a new chapter for Two Against the Galaxy soon!**


	13. Enter Cerberus

The sun was just starting to rise when Andrew woke. He sat up slowly and looked outside. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day, and London seemed unusually quiet. But after everything that happened the day before that was probably a good thing.

A soft rustling next to Andrew took his focus away from the view and he looked off to the right of his bed.

Jolene was sitting next in the corner of his bedroom, reading a book. It was gardening manual Andrew had given her shortly before her twenty-third birthday. She looked up from the book and grinned warmly. "Hey."

Andrew stared at her, his heart sinking. This was just a dream. Jolene's book was lost with everything else they had back on Mindoir, and he hadn't made any effort to find it afterwards. But if a dream meant Andrew being able to speak to his sister again, then he couldn't care less.

"Hey," he replied half-heartedly. Jolene closed the book and crossed over to the bed, sitting next to Andrew. "Didn't sleep so well, huh?" When he didn't answer she looked down and fidgeted awkwardly. "So, how's the garden coming big brother? I heard you'd just gotten a row of _violets_."

Andrew laughed softly. "Yeah. I planted the garden on a little porch outside. I figured I'd get some lavender too. Maybe trim some every now and then and hang it from the window." Jolene squealed in excitement. The sight of her so happy was enough to help him manage a smile as well.

"Don't get too excited," he said as he remembered the previous day's events. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows. Kids and their parents are talking, and I got in trouble with the principal." He let the moment sink in and added, "And a woman from the group Cerberus tried to recruit me." Jolene regarded him passively.

Merely shrugging she said, "Well you've been busy! What are you going to do?"

Andrew leaned back against the bedpost tiredly. "What _can_ I do? If I try to tell anybody about this I'm pretty sure Cerberus might come knocking again, and this time I doubt they'll be as friendly."

He scratched his beard and added, "Nobody at school is any help either. I try to tell people the honest truth about aliens and the things they've done to us, and I get reprimanded for it!"

Scooting closer Jolene answered, "Well we didn't expect this to be easy, did we? Nobody can really understand what happened to us, Andrew. Nobody." She cocked her head and furrowed her brow. "And what about Cerberus? The lady who talked to you seemed nice enough. Pretty too."

"I guess." Andrew shook his head uncertainly. "But for all I know it was just one big act. These people are dangerous…" He trailed off, not knowing what else to say. Jolene put her arm around him encouragingly. "Yeah, it's not like we haven't taken on danger before," she joked. Andrew turned back to her in shock.

"You _died_ , Jolene. If I go out there into space again, start taking risks again, make new friends, what else will go wrong? What will happen to all of them?" In response to this Jolene stood up and offered Andrew her hand. "Come on." He looked at her in puzzlement and she gestured to a door to the porch outside.

"I want to show you something."

She opened the door and showed Andrew a view of the city. The sun was well and truly out now. People were already going about their business as usual. "How many people do you think are down there?" Jolene asked. Andrew shrugged. "Millions, I guess."

"That's about right," his sister replied. "Now how many of them do you really know? How many of them are ever going to make an impact on _your_ life?" He said nothing. The answer was fairly obvious; very few. Jolene continued, "Whatever you're going to do, whether you keep trying to help people in school or go off to join Cerberus, that's your choice. It isn't up to them."

She nudged Andrew softly. "Whatever you choose, I'm with you."

Andrew looked at Jolene, who was smiling the same bright smile she always put on when she tried to cheer him up. She rested her head on his shoulder and looked back at the sunrise. "I miss you, Andrew," she whispered.

Andrew closed his eyes and smiled tearfully. "I miss you too."

* * *

When he opened his eyes again it was dark, and Andrew wondered if he was awake this time. He was alone in his bedroom, and the only noise was the sound of a light breeze coming through his window. Getting up he checked the clock.

 **5:45 AM**

Sighing deeply Andrew began his morning routine. The same routine he'd followed day in and day out for the past few years. Andrew engaged in a physical routine that he'd set up for himself; seventy pushups, fifty stomach crunches and fifty bicycle crunches. Since recovering from his malnourished state on Mindoir, Andrew had made it his goal to remain in top shape in case he ever needed to defend himself again.

Once he was finished Andrew spent three minutes in the shower before breakfast. He activated the monitor on his living room wall and listened to the news while he ate. It was just more of the same. The Citadel Council denied yet another request to let humanity join their enforcers the Spectres.

On another station Andrew heard news of a possible movement by batarian pirates unifying in the Terminus Systems. Andrew's jaw clenched in anger and he switched the station again.

Pope Leo XVI was rallying a crowd in Vatican City to support the men and women of the Alliance Navy and their defense of humanity. Where was their "defense" when he and Jolene needed them? Unable to listen to any more he switched the television off.

Andrew sat in silence for almost half an hour debating with himself. What was he doing here? Was this really what he was going to do from now on; teaching children who had no idea how the galaxy really worked and expecting them or their parents to understand what he'd been through?

No one here appreciated what he was trying to do. No one even trusted him.

Slowly, Andrew's gaze turned to his omni-tool nearby. He slipped it on and pulled up the latest messages. Andrew scrolled through messages from his coworkers, advertisements for refugee care that he had long since declined until he found the one he was looking for.

A photo of Manchester Airport.

* * *

Miranda stood by a vessel that was ready to ship offworld in less than twenty minutes. It was the middle of the morning now, and she was beginning to doubt Hudson would show up.

"Dewitt. Have the ship ready for takeoff. The Illusive Man wants us back with the new recruits in the next forty-eight hours."

She looked wistfully back at the airport. There was a part of Miranda that was actually disappointed Andrew hadn't shown. He wasn't a particularly friendly man, but if her superiors had seen potential in him then it was a shame to let it go to waste.

But as Miranda closed her comm-link she spotted a man approaching her, and she smiled.

Andrew Hudson was trailing a bag of luggage behind him. He'd cleaned up his beard quite nicely since she saw him the day before, and his hair was combed back. A pair of dark sunglasses hid his eyes and he had on a black jacket.

It was as if he was trying to stand out, Miranda thought with a smirk.

"You were starting to worry me, Mr. Hudson. I thought you wouldn't come."

Andrew stopped in front of her and set his bag down. "I thought about what you said yesterday…" Crossing her arms Miranda asked, "Which part exactly?" Looking out at the view of London Andrew remained silent for a second before answering her. "You told me that if I join Cerberus, I can make a difference."

Miranda nodded understandingly. "I did." Looking back at her Andrew took off his sunglasses and shrugged half-heartedly. "I'm not making any changes here. I don't know what you and Cerberus really want with me, but if working for you means getting away from all this then I'm in."

He paused and added bitterly, "There's nothing left for me on Earth. Maybe out there I'll find what I'm looking for."

Miranda beckoned for Andrew to follow her, her spirits lifted. "I'm happy to hear it. Follow me, Mr. Hudson. I'll lead you to…" He cut her off. "If it's all the same to you, just call me Andrew." He fidgeted in place. "I'm not a teacher anymore, remember?"

"Of course," Miranda laughed. "Andrew it is."

* * *

During the trip from London to the Charon Relay, Andrew sat mostly by himself in the back of the Cerberus transport. Other potential recruits to Cerberus sat Miranda had explained that Cerberus cells often used commercial vessels to avoid suspicion when on recruiting missions to Earth or colonies. Miranda's cell was overseeing this operation.

For the sake of secrecy, Andrew and the other newcomers weren't allowed to see any maps of their destination. It made sense, of course. Andrew didn't expect Cerberus to give all of its secrets to someone just for participating.

Several hours passed while Andrew waited alone. Finally Andrew heard a voice over the intercom of the ship proclaim. " _Attention, everyone. We've reached our destination. You will file out of the ship in an orderly fashion, and Cerberus personnel will be there to begin your orientation._ " Andrew felt the ship wobble and then settle down.

He stood up and stretched his legs, making sure he avoided any missteps. Andrew didn't want to make a lousy first impression with Cerberus, and the stern tone of the pilot made it clear he would regret causing a scene.

Andrew stepped in line with the other new recruits as the hatch doors of the ship opened. While they slowly made their way out of the ship, he spotted armed guards wearing the same insignia as Miranda standing by the ship. Their armor was black and grey, with a design fairly similar to Alliance Marines. Each soldier's face was hidden by a helmet with an angular yellow visor. They were an impressive sight for members of a so-called terrorist group, but nothing compared to the station itself.

Andrew was standing in a hangar that stretched up easily nine stories. Various fighters and shuttles were stationed through the hangar, enough to be piloted by a small army. Andrew and the others were bathed in an ethereal light shining through a window, through which he could see a massive star.

It was overwhelming, and not at all what Andrew had expected. He was broken out of the trance by a nudge from behind. "Keep moving," a Cerberus guard grunted. Andrew did as he was told, not about to start a fight.

The group of new recruits was led out of the hangar to a conference room, a circular chamber with a round projector in the center. Andrew and the others waited quietly while a guard hovered near the door. After several minutes Andrew heard one of the others mutter, "Did you see that star? The view was _amazing!_ "

Another hissed, "Quiet."

"Nothing to be keep quiet about," a familiar voice echoed outside the room. Andrew grinned as Miranda Lawson strolled confidently into the conference room and most of the men in the group gaped at her dumbly.

"I remember how amazed _I_ was when I first came here."

Miranda sounded nostalgic, but there was something about her reply that sounded rehearsed. Prepared. Andrew told himself not to think about it too much, as he imagined quite a few people had commented on the star before. Miranda stepped in front of the assembled group and cleared her throat before starting a speech.

"I understand most, if not all of you, are here because you're angry. You're unsatisfied with humanity's place in the galaxy, and the distrust our species faces from every other. Some of you might want to prove something, not just to aliens but also to yourself. Others may want revenge for some perceived wrongdoing…"

Her eyes drifted over Andrew for a second.

"But why you're really here, why Cerberus needs you, is because you have potential. _Humanity_ has potential, even if the rest of the galaxy doesn't know it." She raised her hand and the lights in the room dimmed. "Allow me to introduce the leader of Cerberus, and the man you will ultimately be answering to."

A hologram materialized over the projector. It was the outline of a human man. His features were obscured, obviously on purpose. "Hello," the man said. "If any of you have heard much of Cerberus in various galactic news outlets, you know me as the Illusive Man." The name rang a bell and Andrew's memory jumped back to a news bulletin months back.

"I created Cerberus with the sole purpose of safeguarding humanity's interests. And removing obstacles that might keep our people from moving forward in the galaxy. " The Illusive Man's voice was steely and assertive, and Andrew was transfixed.

"With that in mind, our organization has taken actions that some would consider unethical, even criminal. But these are dangerous times require drastic measures. And Cerberus will do whatever it takes to develop the right strategies and weapons that will not only keep humanity safe but propel us into the forefront of the galactic community."

Some of the recruits shared nervous glances while others nodded approvingly. Andrew remained still as the Illusive Man proceeded.

"As members of Cerberus you will be required to train in the use of military-grade weaponry and infiltration programs. You will learn how to blend into the population of the Alliance, even as you carry out the work that they are afraid to. You will carry out missions to procure unique technology and intel that will help us advance our cause.

If any of you feel unable to carry out these tasks or disagree with Cerberus' agenda, you may return home and carry on with your lives."

The Illusive Man's voice took a darker tone. "But be warned. Those who attempt to betray us and aid in Alliance attempts to shut down Cerberus will be recognized as an enemy. And will be _treated_ as such." He let the moment linger, as if testing the reactions of everyone present.

"You will be transferred to a secure base and begin training after a brief orientation. Your fight for humanity's future begins now, ladies and gentlemen." The hologram disappeared and the lighting in the room returned to normal.

Miranda faced the recruits and crossed her arms. "Anyone who wishes to leave may do so. You won't be harmed, I promise you, and we will not attempt to contact you again." She waited for any of them to respond. But to Andrew's surprise, none of the others present said a word. Whether out of fear or awe they all seemed convinced.

And so was he.

"Then as my director himself said, your work starts now." Miranda grinned in satisfaction and once again looked at Andrew.

"Welcome to Cerberus."

* * *

 **Author's Note: I know what you're thinking. Cerberus, as we know by know, is a pretty ruthless organization, why would they play nice?**

 **Well, that's the point. From what we've seen from characters like Miranda and Jacob, both decent people, Cerberus obviously has to appeal to people in a way that doesn't scare them into serving. Like any extremist group they do their best to make themselves look like the good guys.**

 **But we know better, don't we?**

 **As always, any input or reviews are appreciated, and thanks for reading! I'll see you next time around as Andrew Hudson's Cerberus training begins!**


	14. First Test

**Hello, everybody. Two months after the last chapter, we're finally back. Sorry for the delay, summer semester was killing me.**

* * *

 **May 25, 2174**

A steely-eyed drill instructor paced up and down the line of armored Cerberus trainees, a disgusted sneer twisting his features.

"Well look at you," he sneered in a thick Irish accent. "You lot must be feeling rather proud right now. You think that being able to shoot a gun without having it fly out of your hands is something impressive, don't you? You think that blending in like the sorry saps you are means you're ready for action?"

Andrew did his best to remain still as the instructor, a tall burly man named Ivers, put on an unconvincing grin and looked at him. "How about you, lad? Do you think you're ready to storm into an Alliance shipyard and swipe some fancy weapon?" Andrew shook his head and replied curtly, "No, sir."

" _You're damn right_!" Iver bellowed back at him before moving past the others again. "You can shoot, but you're not ready for combat. You can blend in but you're not ready to maintain your cover under any sort of pressure.

But I don't give two shits if you aren't ready. You're going out there whether you like it or not!"

The door to the Cerberus shuttle opened up behind Iver, and a cold breeze caused Andrew's hair to stand on end. Outside was the surface of Sub-Cronos 1. Named after the primary Cerberus headquarters, Sub-Cronos 1 was the first of several remote worlds used as training for Cerberus. It was a cold world in the Voyager cluster. The nearby Yangtze System held one of Cerberus' newer research bases on a world called Binthu.

While Iver continued to shout at the squad Andrew thought about the past weeks. The awe and inspiration he'd felt at being shown the sheer scope of Cerberus had quickly faded once his actual training began. Rigorous physical exercise, training at assembling and using various firearms and schooling in hand-to-hand combat took up most of his days.

At the same time he was had learned to carry on a false identity, several if necessary. It was strange, pretending to be someone else. As difficult as it was for Andrew to look back at past events he'd forced himself to accept them as part of who he was.

When pretending to be a "Harold Danvers" or "Peter Carson" Andrew was told that he not only had to pretend he was these made up people but believe it himself. Miranda Lawson had spoken to him once or twice in the time since his introduction to Cerberus, and she had warned him that it would be difficult.

By now Andrew understood she'd grossly understated the truth.

Andrew returned to reality and peered at the horizon behind Iver. It was already twilight on Sub-Cronos 1, and there was barely any light left. Ahead of the shuttle was the training ground, a cavernous maze that had been naturally formed from an old canyon.

"This is what's going to happen." Iver barked. "Those caves are pretty complex, and easy to get lost in." His eyes darted to Andrew and then back to the others. "Much like an Alliance shipyard. Miranda Lawson and I have hidden a data file somewhere in there. You're going to go in there and find it."

"That it?" Nearby, a short stocky recruit named Arturo slouched against the shuttle wall. Andrew almost laughed at how cocky he looked. Iver on the other hand only narrowed his eyes and marched to Arturo until they were eye to eye.

"No, you little shite." Iver shot back. "That's not all. You'll have to face another team who are guarding the file. They've been members of Cerberus for a few years now, and were once Alliance soldiers."

Andrew's mouth fell open and he shouted, " _What?_ " As the others joined him in protesting the grossly unfair odds of the test Iver watched them with an amused grin. How were Andrew and the others supposed to get the data if they couldn't even get past the people guarding it?

Finally the instructor held up his hand and said sharply, "That's enough."

Iver moved to the side and pointed outside. "Sooner or later you'll be facing Alliance personnel for real, and when that happens I want you ready." When he saw just how unconvinced the recruits were Iver groaned, "And if it makes you whiny little bollocks feel better, the team guarding your objective is armed with nonlethal weaponry.

They're wielding electrical weapons meant to stun. If you're unlucky enough to get caught and your shields go down you'll be subdued by the electrical charge and go down faster than an asari whore."

The jab towards the blue-skinned Council species drew more than one chuckle from the others but Andrew merely rolled his eyes in disgust. "Any questions?" Iver asked. Andrew moved forward and tapped his own Harpy line pistol. "I assume our weapons have the same modification, right?"

"You'd be correct, boy," Iver replied. "And you've got some silencers, if you want to get off any shots without luring the other team in."

"Right," he shouted and clapped his hands together. "No more delays. Go out there and bring me that data. Deliver it and you'll be provided a tour of the facility run by Miranda Lawson." His eyebrows rose. "By Agent Lawson herself."

Andrew was almost knocked over when Arturo rushed outside with the others in tow. He sighed in exasperation before his eyes widened and he realized what Iver was trying to do.

"Hold up," he said loudly and jumped out of the shuttle. He landed at the bottom of the ramp and ran in front of the other squad members. Arturo stopped and laughed at Andrew.

"What's your problem? Are you trying to get a date with Lawson all to yourself?"

"It's not a date, you horny idiot." Andrew didn't attempt to hide his annoyance. Arturo Menendez was from Earth like him, born in Southern California. He was in his late twenties and clean-shaven, his black hair tied back into a ponytail. Andrew wasn't very fond of his attitude but Arturo hadn't done anything to truly anger him yet.

Taking his eyes off Arturo for a second Andrew looked at the rest of the trainees Lyle and Elle Masters were young twins, barely out of college age. They were both freckled and had striking red hair. They were a good deal friendlier than Arturo, but Andrew hadn't spent enough time to get to know either of them personally. Behind them was Reggie Peters, a towering man who barely spoke unless he had to. Reggie was from the colony Eden Prime but left at an early age. Andrew had yet to find out just why.

Bringing up the rear was Joanie Jackson. She was tall and muscular with her head shaven to a buzz cut, the calmest member of the team next to Andrew despite her rough appearance. She came from an Alliance military family, her father having been killed in the First Contact War. From what Andrew had gathered of her Joanie hated turians as much as he despised batarians.

"Then what is this?" Arturo asked him. Andrew continued, "It's a trap. You didn't consider that maybe Iver was lying about Miranda? He tried to get you running in there without a plan of any kind besides getting laid." The squad stared blankly at him before Elle brushed her bangs to the side.

"So what's _your_ plan then?"

Andrew's mouth opened and then closed again. He hadn't considered a plan himself. "I… I don't know." Arturo laughed obnoxiously and behind him Joanie finally spoke.

"That's okay, old timer. You probably saved our asses here, let's take a minute and think about what we're gonna do here." Each recruit shared expectant looks, as if hoping someone else would come up with an idea.

Lyle raised his hand as if in school and said, "What if we split up and each of us looks for the data?" His sister gaped at him as if Lyle has just announced that he was actually a Prothean. " _Split up?_ We're trying to pass a test for a paramilitary group, not get ourselves killed in a horror vid."

"Well," Arturo said harshly, "What's your plan, smartass?" Lyle stepped in front of his sister defensively. "Don't talk to my sister that way!" he yelled while Reggie stepped between him and Arturo.

Andrew rolled his eyes and fired a shot into the air. "Shut it!"

The group jumped in place. When they all fell quiet Andrew took a deep breath and said, "Whoever's waiting for us in the caves probably heard that and are on their way." He pointed at a flashlight at his belt. "Each of us has one of these, and we'll definitely need them if we're going in there. He paused and considered what to do.

"Okay, so there are six of us. We _could_ split up, but just so we don't our asses handed to us let's go with, say, two groups. Three people each." He turned out the flashlight and pointed it ahead. "Anybody here have really, really good hearing? We still won't be able to see anything, even with these lights."

Reggie cleared his throat. "I could listen for foot steps or a gun clicking." He smiled briefly before falling silent again. "Hold up," Arturo replied. "What exactly was your job, Hudson?" Andrew tried to hide his embarrassment at the question.

"History teacher," he said flatly.

"A teacher?" The younger recruit folded his arms. "We're going into a firefight listening to a guy who graded papers and kept teens from messing around under their desks?"

Andrew glared back at him. "It doesn't have to be a firefight," he muttered in irritation, "If you can try to be part of a group instead of mouthing off." Arturo bristled angrily but after a second he chuckled.

"Well you've got balls, I'll give you that old man. Nobody's spoken to me like that since I still lived with my mom" He tapped his foot and gazed at Andrew for a second before adding, "What the hell, let's give your idea a shot. We'll probably have enough problems without zapping _each other_."

Rolling his eyes Andrew started forward into the caves with the others and muttered back, "Gee, thanks. Your confidence is overwhelming."

* * *

Iver watched the squad disappear into the caverns before activating his comm-link and closing the shuttle door.

"Well, Lawson… They're going in. Poor bastards are in for quite a scare!"

" _Are you sure this is the right way to test them?_ " Usually the woman 's attitude was impassive, ice cold. Miranda's tone was concerned, even worried. Iver cleared his throat and asked, "Uh, Ma'am? Am I sensing some compassion for these fresh-faced brats?"

The drill instructor almost sighed in relief when his superior's reply was the kind of dry condescension Iver was used to. " _Call it professional concern, Iver. The way I see it, if they screw this up it will make them a less effective unit in the long run. I'm not getting wishy-washy over this if that's what you're wondering._ "

"Of course not, Ms. Lawson," Iver answered with a chuckle. "I'll keep you posted on their progress." He closed the connection and sat back, opening a beer and watching a set of screens displaying the inside of the cave.

* * *

 **Author's Note: So Andrew is off into his Cerberus training, and hooray for new friends!**

 **Well, sort of. Cerberus isn't always the good place for budding friendships.**

 **Anyway, Andrew has been forced through survival situations and witnessed battles but now he's being forced to become a soldier himself. His past experiences may help or hinder him going forward, and Miranda Lawson knows this. What will happen next? Stick around to find out.**

 **See you in the next chapter and expect an update on Two Against the Galaxy soon!**


	15. A Test of Loyalty

As they edged further through the caves Andrew could hear faint dripping from the ceiling. The surface Sub-Cronos 1 was cool and arid, so Andrew guessed that most of the water on the planet was underground now.

"Spot anything?" he murmured.

The others shook their heads and he kept moving. After several minutes they reached a fork in the tunnel and halted. "Okay," Lyle said nervously. "Who wants to down creepy tunnel number one?" He pointed to the left. Joanie moved towards the entrance but Andrew stopped her.

"Hold up." Andrew walked to the entrance of the tunnel and pointed his light inside. His heart skipped a beat when Andrew saw a sheer drop in front of him stretching farther down than he could see. "Well," he said shakily and stepped back from the ledge. "We're sure as hell not going that way."

Together they started into the right tunnel before an echo caused Andrew to freeze in place. " _Lights off,_ " he whispered. The squad turned their flashlights off in turn, crouching low to the floor behind a rocky outcrop while Andrew leaned into a pocket in the wall.

After half a minute Andrew heard a group of several people walking into the tunnel. He remembered his training at the firing range and slowed his breath down, keeping himself calm. He felt his heartbeat, which had been racing a minute before starting to slow down. Andrew listened closely to them, staying absolutely still.

"Think they're already in?" one of them asked. His voice was distorted, likely by a filter in his helmet.

Another one hissed, " _Shut up. If they are they could get the drop on us, rookies or not._ " Andrew took the chance to peer into the tunnel and saw there were three Cerberus troopers in total. They were dressed in full armor and carrying assault rifles.

"You, scout outside," the apparent leader of the group ordered and pointed at the trooper to his left. "Make sure they aren't hiding out there." He gestured to the woman behind him. "You follow me." The trio split off and soon Andrew and his squad were left alone in the tunnel again.

"Okay…" Andrew let out a shaky breath and stepped down to the rocky floor again. "Let's move." By now his eyes had adjusted to the dark enough so that only one flashlight was needed for the group. Joanie turned the light down to a comfortable level and murmured, "We should take care of that one trooper outside."

If they didn't have an objective already, Andrew would have agreed. "The data's our main focus. Let's stick together for now."

They continued to wander for what felt like half an hour before they saw a dim light from the end of the tunnel. "Hey, I think we got something." Andrew felt a rush of excitement and picked up his pace. As the squad grew closer he began to make out what they were headed towards.

It looked like a small dais, in the center of the room ahead. The display was illuminated under a light shining down from the ceiling. Placed on the center of the dais was a square shaped box as big as Andrew's fist. This was the data file, Andrew thought. It had to be.

But as he opened his mouth to say something to the others Andrew paused. What if the three senior Cerberus troopers left the data file unprotected to lure his group in? What if more were hiding in the room, ready to seize whoever tried to take the file?

"What's the plan?" Arturo asked impatiently. Thinking for a moment Andrew looked back to where the group had come in. He finally pointed at Lyle and Joanie, who were an engineer and a heavy weapons specialist respectively.

"Okay, you too go back to that last corner we passed and wait there. Keep an eye out for any troopers that might come around. Reggie and Elle will watch the outside of the cave for me while I go in for the data."

He glanced at Arturo. "You come with me."

The other recruit nodded in understanding. While they proceeded Andrew drew his pistol. In case of a full-on attack it would have been smarter to use his assault rifle. But handguns had always suited Andrew better. Easier to conceal, and more precise.

"Let's do this," he muttered to Arturo and edged slowly into the cave towards the data file. The chamber was pitch black except for the light on the ceiling. Moving quickly but staying as quiet as possible Andrew switched on the light on his weapon and swung it around the cave.

There was no one else there. They were alone.

Andrew observed the display on which the box containing the file rested. There didn't seem to be any trip wires or switches meant to activate a trap. Perhaps there was a motion sensor? Andrew knew there was no camera above, having checked during his scan of the room. But still, it was just too simple, too convenient.

Whatever the case, Andrew wasn't willing to stick around and find out. The longer he stood around and waited the more likely those other troopers were to find him and his group. Andrew felt his heart beginning to race and a dull pounding was soon reverberating in his ears. Taking in a deep breath Andrew decided to risk it and reached down to the box.

His hand closed around the square object and he pulled it off the display carefully, ready to run. Andrew half-expected it to collapse and set off a booby trap like many vids on Earth more than a hundred years ago. But there was nothing. No loud noise, no movement. But once again Andrew wasn't willing to stay put. "Let's get the hell out of here," he whispered, almost not hearing himself over the pounding in his ears.

Arturo muttered, "Way ahead of you."

The two quickly walked out of the cave to Elle and Reggie. "We got it what we came for." Andrew gestured past them and added, "It's time to go." He looked ahead to where Joanie and Lyle were waiting and opened his mouth to call to them.

But they weren't there.

"What the…" Andrew's stomach dropped. He looked around the tunnel and still saw no sign of them. He rounded on his squad mates and hissed, "Where'd they go?" The others looked just as shocked as him however.

"They were just there!" Elle's voice was barely a squeak. Andrew could already see sweat forming on her forehead and her green eyes were nearly bugging out of her skull.

With as much effort as he could muster Andrew stayed put and tried to remain calm. "Move," he ordered. "It doesn't matter if the troopers caught them. Iver said that their weapons were non-lethal." He tried to sound confident, but a part of Andrew was starting to wonder if the instructor had really been telling the truth.

They started to make for the exit hastily when rustling from across the cave caught his attention. Andrew froze mid-step and heard a _click_. His eyes nearly screwed shut when a bright light flashed onto Andrew and the others.

Then a loud female voice bellowed, "Alliance marines, drop your weapons!"

Andrew felt rooted on the spot and his stomach dropped. How did the Alliance find them out here? Did Miranda and Iver know that they were here?

The cave was silent for several seconds before the same voice yelled, "I said drop them!" Arturo was the first to move, pointing his rifle at the source of the light. "What the fuck did you to do Lyle and Joanie?"

"That's none of your concern," the Alliance soldier barked. "Drop the gun or you'll all as good as dead."

Arturo's eyes narrowed. "Fuck you, Alliance pigs!"

The hotheaded recruit fired a volley from his assault rifle and the light in front of them flickered. Their weapons weren't on a lethal setting, but Andrew knew that stunning their attackers for long enough could allow them to escape. But Andrew's mouth fell open in horror when he saw a biotic field deflect the shots.

"Run!" he shouted. He turned and started to sprint in the opposite direction with Elle and Reggie in tow. Arturo started after them, but Andrew saw a muzzle flash and the other Earthborn recruit was sent sprawling to the floor. Andrew slowed for a second, thinking of going back to help him until Arturo looked at Andrew and scowled.

"Go on, old man," he yelled. "I'll keep these shitheads occupied!" Arturo rolled to his feet and kept firing.

Andrew forced himself to keep going. He ran as fast as he could through the training area while his eyes raced back and forth, looking for any sign of another Alliance troop. He berated himself for taking his time getting the file. Why couldn't he have just gotten it over with? If he hadn't been worried about failing a damn field test, Andrew and the others could have made it back to Iver by now.

Just as his lungs were starting to burn Andrew spotted a faint light ahead. They had made it to the exit. "There it is," he rasped. "Hurry up!" To his left Reggie picked up the pace, nearly making it past Andrew. But something caught his eye and his face went blank.

"Get down!" Reggie shoved Andrew to the rocky cave floor before everything around them suddenly went all white. A loud bang caused Andrew to cover his ears and grunt in disorientation. He tried to rise from the floor but couldn't even prop himself up on one knee without getting dizzy.

A flashbang grenade.

While the ringing in his ears continued Andrew felt a pair of rough hands seizing him. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. A mix of panic and anger rushed through Andrew when he remembered the last time he had been attacked so roughly.

A vision of Mindoir and batarian soldiers flashed in his mind and he gritted his teeth in rage.

" _Get the hell off of me!_ " He barely heard his own voice over the effects of the grenade still disorienting him. Andrew curled his fist and lashed out at the Alliance soldier undoubtedly trying to subdue him. He felt his gauntlet connect with a helmet and the marine pulled away.

His senses were beginning to return and Andrew leapt to his feet. Everything was still blurry but he could make out Reggie being forced to the ground by several Alliance personnel at the entrance to the cave. Elle was already pinned down, the youth grimacing as tears streaked down her face.

Andrew's heart ached as he realized why she was so panicked. It wasn't her own safety she was worried for, it was Lyle's. Her brother. For a moment he remembered his own fear when their home was assaulted by the slavers. He remembered Jolene and he again felt himself overtaken by anger.

One soldier, likely the one who had attacked him, raced towards Andrew. He delivered another crushing blow, this time square into the marine's chest. The soldier stopped in place, winded long enough for Andrew to knock him down with a punishing kick.

But lights went off again in Andrew's head when a dull impact struck his head from behind. He fell to his knees in a daze. His fingers brushed the back of his head and when he pulled them back down Andrew saw flecks of blood.

The soldier from behind loomed over Andrew and raised his gun again, striking Andrew with the butt of the gun once more. His eyes shut and everything went black.

* * *

 _"He's coming to."_

 _"Make sure those restraints hold. He put up one hell of a fight, this one."_

Andrew woke with a start. He was tied down to a chair in a pitch-black room with a single light shining in his face. His armor was stripped, leaving Andrew in only the mesh suit underneath. The back of his skull was aching, and he felt a drop of blood still oozing from the place where the Alliance soldier had struck him.

" _My information says your name is Andrew Hudson._ " A distorted voice rang through the room and Andrew bared his teeth defiantly. " _You were last seen in Alliance Space on Earth. London. You departed to unknown whereabouts with nothing left behind._ "

"I was getting bored much with my life," Andrew snarked. "Felt like a change could do me good."

" _Your joined a known terrorist organization,_ " his interrogator continued. " _We want you to tell us what you know about Cerberus. Where they've been training you. What they've told you about their plans. How much they know about Alliance operations._ "

Andrew felt his heartbeat picking up again as he processed what was happening. He had no idea where he was or who was talking to him. But whoever was speaking knew more about him than he was comfortable with. His thoughts drifted to the other squad members. Were they being interrogated as well?

Or had the Alliance patrol killed them and left only him for questioning?

" _Tell us what you know,_ " the voice repeated. " _And we'll have you sent to a secure facility where you'll be safe from any repercussions for aiding us._ "

"Fuck you," Andrew spat. "You'll just throw my name in the headlines and pretend you're actually doing something worthwhile instead of actually helping people." The person questioning Andrew was silent.

Finally they answered, " _Is that loyalty talking? Or anger carried over from four years ago?_ " Andrew's fists clenched and he let out a growl but said nothing. " _You hold some resentment towards the Alliance for not helping you and the other victims of the Mindoir raids, don't you?_ " Once more, he refused to answer.

" _These people you've joined are traitors, Hudson,_ " his captor said. " _They don't care about helping you, they're just using your anger for their own ends._ "

"Sure," Andrew muttered bitterly. "Next thing you'll be telling me is that _you_ can help me, right?" The battered prisoner looked ahead, as if the person holding him was right in front of him. "Save it. You want to help me? Bring back my sister. And the Nichols family. Or my neighbor Mr. Tanaka."

His captor grunted dismissively. " _We didn't kill them. But we_ _ **will**_ _kill your squad mates if you don't give us what we want._ "

Andrew sneered. "That's what I thought. I bet you told each of them the same thing," He shook his head and added, "If they're still alive. Hell, I bet you'd play nice if I was a krogan, or an asari stripper in deep with some mercenaries. But no, I'm a _traitor._ Fuck my rights, is that is?" His tone rose until Andrew was bellowing at his interrogator.

"I joined Cerberus because they won't waste time playing nice. They won't hesitate to go out and do what they have to, if it means something like Mindoir never happens again. _They'll make a difference._ That's all that matters to me…"

He leaned back, resigned to whatever came next. "Go ahead and do whatever the hell you want with me," he said defiantly. "I'm not telling you shit!"

The room was eerily still for what felt like a minute. Finally the voice asked, " _Is that your final word?_ " Andrew closed his mouth and answered with silence.

What sounded like a hatch door opened behind Andrew and he saw a light shining through. The outline of an armored soldier marched into the room. Andrew closed his eyes as he heard a clicking sound, knowing it was a gun. He remained still, even as the muzzle pressed against his head.

This was it.

A gruff voice said mockingly, "Who knew the quiet teacher had such a mouth on him?"

Andrew's eyes shot open. He knew that voice. Craning his head around he stammered, incredulous, as he saw none other than Iver standing over him, with the most infuriating smile on his face. "I have to say," Iver chuckled while Andrew continued to gape at him, "I expected the twins to fold. And believe me they did. But I thought you'd be the first to crack, PTSD and all."

"You…" Andrew felt his head spinning as he realized what was happening. "You son of a bitch! This was all a trick!"

"It was a _test,_ " Iver said and pointed at Andrew. "True, I lied when I told you that your objective was the data. But when I told you I wanted to see how you'd hold up in the field as a team, I meant it." He paused, as if waiting for Andrew to figure it out.

Andrew thought about what Iver was saying before it dawned on him. "You wanted to see how loyal we are," he murmured. Iver clapped sarcastically.

"Check out the brains on this bugger. That's exactly what I wanted to see." He paced around Andrew, who was beginning to shake as he tried to take everything in. "Sadly, even the best of us will inevitably face the possibility of being caught. Whether by the Alliance, or the Council, or any number of alien nasties out there."

His tone was becoming more serious. "Needless to say, not everyone can stand the pressure. Some people crack. We can't afford that. Those of our organization who fold under this pressure are relegated to desk jobs in Cerberus. Then one day, they're tested again in a similar fashion. But needless to say, the first test of loyalty and, well, guts means a lot."

Reaching into his belt Iver pulled out the box containing the data file Andrew had gotten himself "captured" for. At the same time he activated a switch on Andrew's chair, and the recruit nearly fell to the floor.

"You know," he said, "I have half a mind to punch you out right now."

"Oh I'm sure." Iver smiled. "Sorry about that knock on the head back there, had to make it convincing. Anyway, let's see your prize for passing your big, ahem, _exam._ " A light turned on in the room, showing a nearby console on the wall. Iver opened the box and pulled out a chip. He placed it into the console and a monitor opened up displaying an image of the Illusive Man.

"Congratulations," he said. "If you are watching this recording it means you've passed your first major test. This program was meant to determine not your physical skills or combat capability, but your dedication to Cerberus. You have proven that you not only belong in our organization, but you are more than capable of serving it."

Andrew felt an odd mixture of pride and resentment. On one hand he appreciated that his efforts were acknowledged but there was still a twinge of anger at the deception. Because, if his instincts were right, Miranda Lawson was in on this as much as Iver was.

The recording of the Illusive Man continued. "As reward for your performance, more suitable quarters have been provided for at a Cerberus base run by Miss Miranda Lawson, your superior. You will have access to your own personal firearm and intelligence regarding future missions. Congratulations once again. Make the most of what you've earned."

With a crackle of static the monitor shut off. A click of heeled boots caught Andrew's attention and he turned around to see Miranda walking into the room. She surveyed him with a half-sympathetic, half surprised look. "Well done," she said curtly. "Follow me. I'll escort you offworld back to base."

Andrew narrowed his eyes at her. "Sure you won't lead me into another _exam_? I'm sure there are other ways for you to trigger some horrible flashbacks, or injure me in some way."

"I understand your frustration, Andrew." Miranda stared at him with an expression that was impossible to read. "But if you're expecting an apology I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"Argh, you two work this out." Iver walked out of the room, leaving Andrew and Miranda alone. They regarded each other for several minutes before Miranda finally broke the silence. "I suppose you have a lot to say before we go, Andrew."

"You could say that again," Andrew said softly, not letting his anger show.

She leaned against the wall behind her and cross her arms. "Well, I have time. Tell me everything."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Yeah, sorry for the bait-and-switch.**

 **I watched Kingsman and I thought, " _I can see Cerberus pulling a test of loyalty like this"_. But in Andrew's case, this was much more. He's been in a situation where he's a captive before, and it happening again wasn't very enjoyable. And one has to wonder how Miranda felt doing this, knowing his story.**

 **We'll see how it affected his new friends as well as we go forward. Until then, cheerio!**


	16. Starting Over

"Tell me everything."

The tension in the air was palpable while Andrew glowered at Miranda and tried to think of exactly what to say. The Cerberus agent was as impassive as ever, with her face a blank slate. Andrew had known Miranda to know that she was infuriatingly good at hiding her thoughts and feelings.

"Well," he began with his voice on the verge of cracking, "Let's get the obvious out of the way. Just what the _fuck_ were you playing at?" Miranda's mouth opened slightly but Andrew wasn't finished. "I thought you said that I was going to be just an informant for you assholes. I give you some information, and you use it. Simple."

Andrew paced around Miranda angrily. "I've spent four years trying to cope with what happened to me and my sister. Four years worth of nightmares, therapy that didn't do a goddamn bit of good, and this is what you offer me? Throwing me into a torture chamber and making me remember all of it?"

Miranda's features remained placid. She straightened up and said calmly, "We needed you to fully grasp what you and every other Cerberus operative might face out there." Her words sounded rehearsed and insincere, only adding Andrew's fury.

"This program wasn't my idea. I was afraid of how this experience might affect you, but every member has to face it. Whether you're a soldier, a hacker or just our eyes and ears you need to understand what…"

" _I UNDERSTAND!_ " Andrew stormed up to Miranda and reached to the side of his head. Pulling up his greying brown hair he tilted his head to the side, showing Miranda a hideous scar running along his scalp, across his temples and around the back of his head. Miranda's intense blue eyes drifted to the scar and just for a moment he could see his expression falter.

"You see that?" Andrew hissed. "On Mindoir the batarians stuck an implant in my head. In all our heads. Ready to go off if I stepped out of line." He lowered his hand and let his hair fall back down. "And that's just one mark. One scar. I can promise there's plenty more. Not all of them you can see."

Andrew paused, letting it sink in and waiting for Miranda to say something. Her eyes once again flickered in the directions of his scars before locking with Andrew's again. "We all have scars, Andrew." There was something in her voice now that sounded less confident. She clearly hadn't expected him to show that to her.

"I know what you suffered, and what you lost. But you're far from the only one." Miranda pointed to the door. "I assume you've learned at least something about your teammates? Joanie Jackson? She lost family to the turians in the war. Elle and Lyle don't have any parents, that's why they were out on their own when we found them."

Shaking in anger Andrew retorted, "None of them had to watch their family die. So what's your point?"

"My point," Miranda shouted, "Is that you're not the only one who's lost someone you loved!" Her cheeks were turning a bright pink now, and Andrew realized that she was in fact angry. It suddenly occurred to him that he had never seen her like this.

He cocked his head, still surprised by her display of emotion. Slowly but surely Andrew began to wonder just why Miranda herself was part of Cerberus. How would she know what it meant to lose someone? "Looks like I touched a nerve." His eyes narrowed as Andrew added, "You never told me _your_ reason for joining these people."

Miranda didn't answer him. The flush began to leave her cheeks, and soon her expression was blank again. It was as if Miranda was making a concentrated effort to calm down. Finally she straightened herself up and replied, "My reasons are none of your concern. And perhaps it still hasn't occurred to you, but Cerberus is bigger than you or any one person. Every one of us has already made our peace and moved on. It's time for you to do the same."

Turning on her heel, Miranda's dark hair whirled around her as she stormed out and left Andrew alone.

* * *

Miranda didn't stop until she reached her private quarters. The interrogation chamber was on Cronos station, and it was a short trip across the level and then up an elevator to her room.

When the door closed behind her Miranda finally let out a frustrated yell. Pacing back and forth while wringing her hands she fumed over what happened back there with Hudson.

"Stupid… Why did you let him provoke you like that?"

Miranda sat down and continued to berate herself. She had made every effort to hide the details of her private life from her fellow agents. Miranda knew just what they all thought of her. She was someone who couldn't be approached or trusted. Whenever they weren't insulting her attitude behind her back they were ogling her appearance. She was the ice queen. The glammed-up Barbie doll.

But as long as they could all get the job done, it didn't matter to Miranda what these people said or thought about her. In fact, it was better this way. If no one truly knew her, then no one could get close enough to hurt her or the one person she cared about.

Suddenly her thoughts turned to Andrew. Miranda knew that he wouldn't take the deception well, but actually seeing his anger firsthand was difficult even for her. Andrew's scars, that vulnerable yet threatening look in his eye when speaking of Mindoir. More than anyone else, Miranda knew just how damaged he really was.

Perhaps she understood Andrew _too_ much. Miranda remembered what she said about losing a loved one, and running her fingers through her hair nervously she realized Andrew was already suspicious.

"Stupid," she muttered again. "You have to be better than this."

Miranda sat still for half a minute then activated her omni-tool. Flipping through the multitude of files stored in the device she found the one she was looking for. She opened the file and plugged in her omni-tool to a personal computer on her wall. An image appeared, a photo of a young girl.

Her black hair was in a short bob, and her eyes the same blue as Miranda's. The girl was playing with a middle-aged man and woman in a public park while wearing the biggest smile Miranda had ever seen.

Miranda blinked and noticed that her eyes were watering.

And her eyelids were growing heavy. It was late, and the next day would be a busy one as always. She stripped off her bodysuit and walked into her shower. Turning on the water to an almost scalding degree she leaned her head back and let the water run through her tousled black hair.

With a twinge of guilt she remembered what she said to Andrew. _"If you're expecting an apology I'm sorry to disappoint you."_ Miranda's forehead fell against the shower wall and she closed her eyes wearily. She'd lied.

Miranda _was_ sorry.

* * *

The next several days were rather quiet. The Illusive Man's message turned out very true when Andrew was notified of a transfer to a new home on a human colony. The colony was a planet in the Shadow Sea called Horizon, just remote enough for Miranda's group to meet and develop in secret without any hindrance.

It was a cool, breezy afternoon when Andrew arrived on the lush green world. Stepping off the Alliance transport he pulled his heavy jacket closer around him before arriving at Orientation. "Good afternoon, sir." A cheery receptionist brushed her hair out of her face and shot him a welcoming grin. "Welcome to Horizon. May I see your identification?"

Andrew nodded and passed her a card. The woman scanned it with her omni-tool and asked, "Harold Danvers?" When he said yes she returned the card and Andrew suppressed a smile. The fake identity had worked like a charm. His satisfaction faded however when he spotted Miranda out of the corner of his eye.

She was checking in as herself. Somehow, her own identity was unknown to Alliance officials. According to Iver, the only times Miranda needed an alias was on missions known only to her and the Illusive Man. Her eyes met Andrew's and he looked away with his cheeks burning. Neither had spoken to the other since their argument.

"Still pissed at her?"

Right behind him Andrew heard Joanie, or 'Pam Hamilton'. She and Arturo were the other two recruits to pass their test of loyalty. Lyle, Elle and Reggie were back at Cronos Station undergoing further training. "Yeah," Andrew murmured while he waited for Arturo to check in as 'Leo Cantrell'.

"She knew exactly what kind of background I came from," Andrew said angrily after he and Joanie walked off to a safe distance. "Where I come from, what's happened to me, and she still let Iver go ahead with the test. Am I really supposed to forgive that?"

Joanie shrugged her broad shoulders and answered, "Fuck no. But it's not like we can hold a grudge forever." She pointed at a scar on the back of her neck. "I was in the Alliance marines before Miranda picked me up, same as Arturo. I was even going to try out for the N7 program. Stuff like that interrogation was something I would have to expect, sooner or later."

Andrew shook his head. "Well _I'm_ not a soldier. This wasn't what I signed on for."

"I know that." Joanie gave him a sheepish look. "But things never really go according to plan. I mean, say you run into some batarian pirates…"

Andrew resisted the urge to cut her off.

"Or god forbid a Spectre catches on to you. This is a dangerous job, even if you're not going to be out fighting like the rest of us." Joanie apparently noticed Andrew's continuing skepticism, as she paused before saying understandingly, "Well that's all _I_ have to say about it. I can't change your mind for you."

She walked off to get her luggage while Andrew thought over what she said. Joanie had given him the same excuses as Miranda. What was he missing? Did _anyone_ understand where he was coming from? He'd been recruited to serve as an informant, an observer for Cerberus. What parts of that job could possibly put him at such a major risk?

It wasn't that Andrew didn't understand, he thought as he picked up his own bags and took a skycar to his new house. He under Cerberus' reputation amongst Alliance officials and Council space. They were considered dangerous criminals by the other races and traitors by their fellow humans.

If he were apprehended by any of them Andrew would be treated no better than a slaver or mass murderer.

But Miranda had betrayed his trust. For all their bluster about loyalty, she and her superiors hadn't taken him on his word. The fact that he'd joined them in the first place in spite of all the danger should have been enough proof that he was loyal.

Andrew arrived at his new living home, an impressive three-story apartment building in the northwestern town Dawn's Edge. This was the 'base' the Illusive Man had talked about, obviously. He was the first to arrive from the looks of things. Andrew checked in at the lobby, offering his identification to a man at the front desk.

"Well hello, Iver. Harold Danvers, here to check in."

The instructor had grown a slight stubble on his cheeks as a part of his cover, and Andrew nearly laughed at the sight of his newly shaved head. Iver's face reddened as he shot a withering glare at him. "Crack a laugh, boy," he growled, "And you're going to wake up in the middle of the night with your bollocks shoved down your throat."

When the transfer details were relayed to Miranda's cell Andrew had felt a great deal of satisfaction when Iver was assigned to a desk job in a lobby. Though there was a part of him that wondered why. For now he simply grinned at Iver's threat and walked away to his room.

"Andrew?"

He stopped short just before going in. Turning his head around Andrew saw Miranda standing behind him, her arms crossed in an uncharacteristically awkward manner. "Do you have time to talk?" she asked.

Andrew thought about walking into his room and closing the door on her face. But he thought better of it and turned around to look at her directly. "What do you want?" His tone was harsh. Andrew wanted it clear that he was still angry with her.

"I wanted to talk about several days ago." Miranda spoke slowly and hesitated more than once. "How I acted, and what I said to you…" She shook her head. "It wasn't fair."

Andrew stared at Miranda blankly. What the hell was she playing at now?

"Yeah?" he asked. "Which part?"

Miranda's eyes fell briefly. "When I told you to _move on_. That was callous, and it was wrong to ask that of someone who's suffered what you have." At the end her voice trailed off. But in a flash Miranda's aloof demeanor returned.

"So, I wanted to say that I'm sorry. And that I should have found some other way to test you."

This was another first for her. Andrew was surprised enough when he'd managed to anger Miranda before, but now here she was actually saying she was sorry. Of all the things Andrew expected to hear from her, 'sorry' was the last. But Andrew wasn't going to just take her word for it.

"Thanks," he said carefully. "I appreciate it. But why apologize now?"

"Because you were right." Miranda's voice shook slightly. "I joined Cerberus for a reason very much like yours." She looked around the two of them as if afraid someone was listening. "Several years ago, I had to relocate someone. A girl. Very young. She was much like a sister to me, and someone was going to hurt her."

She took a deep controlled breath and continued. "It took some planning and a few bullets but I finally got her away from this person. But I knew he'd come after her, so I turned to Cerberus. They recognized my talents, and in return for my service the Illusive Man provided the girl a safe haven."

Andrew listened to her story without saying a word. It was hard to tell if she was lying. "Good story," he answered. "How do I know you didn't just make it up?" Miranda scoffed.

"Really, Andrew. If I made that up, why would I have kept things so vague?" Cocking her head to the side she said, "I'm not stupid enough to spill all my secrets just because I'm feeling sorry.

She had Andrew stumped there. He did want to believe Miranda. If her story was true, he could understand why she was so emotionally closed off. And why she would make an exception for him and actually apologize for her actions.

Still unsure he shrugged and remarked, "I guess I can believe you. For now, anyway. But I'm not ready to _forgive_ you just yet."

"I understand." Miranda nodded with a grin. "Believe me, I do. But I hope you can, some day. If we're going to work together, we need to trust each other. And we need to be honest." Her voice turned somber. "All of us."

Andrew raised a finger pointedly. "Couldn't agree more. So I'll hold you to that."

Miranda laughed and said, "Fair enough. Anyway, since we're both here I wanted to let you know; at zero eight-hundred hours tomorrow each of you will get your first real assignment." She paused and smiled before adding, "Thanks."

"For what?" Andrew said, confused.

"Giving us a chance to start over. Not many people would do that, especially for someone like me." And with that she left.

He stared after her for a minute. He wanted say something, but nothing came to mind. After standing there for what felt like forever Andrew took a deep breath, feeling relieved. Miranda was right about one thing.

After today, he did feel like starting over.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I'm having fun writing from Miranda's point of view. I'l be doing more of that.**

 **Andrew can't forgive Miranda yet but he just might give things a second chance. All of that tension between the two of them will be leading somewhere.**

 **Next time, we'll see Andrew assigned to his first mission out in the field as a spy/informant. But things might not go exactly as planned...**


	17. Compromised

**May 29, 2174**

By mid day, the marketplace of Horizon was abuzz with activity. Several streets branched of from the public square Dawn's Landing, named after the first arrival on the world.

South Way was the heart of the market. Along the sides of the street were various clothing shops, public food trucks and surplus stores. It reminded Andrew of a few places in Chicago as he strolled down the sidewalk. He breathed in deeply, smiling when he caught a whiff from a taco truck.

Making a note to drop by once he was done Andrew tapped his comm-link. "Okay, Miranda. I'm on South Way. Who am I waiting for, again?"

" _A salarian information broker,_ " Miranda Lawson's voiced chimed in on the other end of the link. " _His name is Izara._ "

Andrew turned on the spot, scanning his surroundings for a salarian. There was no sign of him so far. "Information broker," he muttered to remind himself. "Right. So what did he do to piss you guys off?" A moment passed while Andrew heard a click in the background. Most likely it was Miranda double-checking her notes.

When the sound stopped Miranda said, " _Cerberus is beginning to suspect that he's in contact with the Blue Suns mercenaries. He's observing with many human colonists lately. My guess is that Izara's taking information from these people and selling it to criminal associates, then using some of his rewards to pay the Blue Suns for protection._ "

"What kind of information?" Andrew asked, still looking for Izara.

" _Investments, travel plans, business associations, and the like._ "

Andrew's lips formed a thin line. He hadn't even met this Izara, and he already disliked him immensely. "That kind of personal information is the kind pirates or slavers could use before an attack," he said worriedly and thought of batarian ships coming to Horizon in a way just like Mindoir. Without thinking his hand drifted inside his jacket and fingered his newly provided handgun. A Raikou pistol, from Ariake technologies.

" _I know what you're probably thinking,_ " Miranda snapped. " _Let's not jump to any conclusions just yet. I just need you to spot Izara and use one of those bugs you got before leaving today to listen in on him. Find out what he's up to._ "

It was hard for Andrew not to groan in exasperation. But as Andrew pulled his hand away from his gun. Miranda was right. They had to be sure what was really going on before they made any decisions. Cerberus needed answers. And it was up to him to get them.

"So," he remarked and managed a laugh. "No pressure."

But his smile vanished when a tall, thin figure rounded the street corner. Sure enough it was a salarian. The alien had a light, beige color to his skin, and one of the horn-like protrusions on his head was angled backwards.

 _Crooked,_ Andrew thought. Just like the guy attached to it.

Doing his best to stay hidden Andrew watched him walk down South Way before he branched off to a back alley. "Okay," he said and hurried after Izara. "I think I've got him. He just got off the road."

" _Follow him,_ " Miranda ordered. " _But try to keep your distance._ "

His brow furrowed. "If he spots me, I can just pretend I'm lost or something."

Miranda's tone expressed concern when she said sharply, " _I wouldn't advise that. For all we know, some of Izara's Blue Suns contacts are already here in disguise. If they suspect even for a second that you're spying on them, don't think for a second they'll hesitate kill you._ "

Andrew faltered, his pace slowing to a crawl. Not wanting his worry to show he asked, "What makes you so sure?"

" _It's what_ **I** _would do._ "

Grimacing he answered, "Right." Taking his time, he walked into the alley while keeping a good eye on the salarian broker. Izara looked as if he was in a hurry, but once or twice Andrew had to duck out of sight as the alien swerved his tall, thin head around to look behind him.

Eventually Izara stopped at a door at the base of a large warehouse building. An orange flash illuminated the door, most likely his omni-tool. The door opened and Izara disappeared inside. When the door was closed Andrew rushed over and slipped a hand into his pocket.

He pulled out a rounded disk-like object that barely covered the palm of his hand. On one side was a light film, and once removed a strong adhesive would attach the bug to any surface Andrew chose. "I've got the bug," He said into his comm-link and spotted a dirty, fogged-up window at approximately the ground level. "Placing it now." Peeling the film off the back of the bug Andrew pressed a switch on the front of the device, reaching to put in on the windowsill. It wouldn't even take a second to slap it on the windowsill.

But a muffled voice from inside the warehouse caused his body to jolt back. Andrew couldn't make out what was being said, but loud footsteps signaled him that he needed to hide now.

" _What's wro…_ "

Moving in a blur Andrew dropped to the ground, cutting off Miranda's voice as he deactivated the comm-link. A large figure crossed the other side of the window above him. It was hard to be sure, but the shadow was carrying a large object that looked awfully like a rifle.

Andrew's heart pounded inside his chest, and he felt a fine layer of sweat forming on his face. He flattened against the wall under the window before his legs seized, unable to move again even if he wanted to. He pulled his Raikou pistol from its holster and switched off the safety on the weapon.

Half a minute passed while Andrew waited and listened for a sign of movement. But the only sound he heard was the distant noise from the market. He considered making a break for it, running off and coming back later when he felt safer. But if the man inside was indeed armed Andrew knew he wouldn't make it more than five steps before being gunned down.

Another voice called out from the warehouse and a shuffle of heavy feet signaled Andrew that whoever it was he was hiding from was on the move again. The footsteps began to recede, and soon Andrew was left in silence again.

The Cerberus recruit felt himself moving again. He pressed the bug to the bottom of the windowsill despite the shaking in his hand, hearing a soft squelch as the adhesive did its work.

His work was done here, and with a relieved sigh Andrew raced back in the direction he came from while holstering his gun. A dull buzzing caught his attention and with a gasp Andrew remembered Miranda. He plugged his earpiece back in. "Miranda…"

" _What the hell happened?_ " His superior sounded distressed and angry. "One second you're in place, no trouble, then your comm goes offline!" Andrew almost laughed in exhilaration. "I think one of Izara's friends almost spotted me… had to hide for a minute…"

Miranda paused. "Did you manage to secure the bug?"

"Yes," Andrew breathed, "And yes." He didn't stop until he had reached South Way again, and was back in the midst of the crowd. When he felt safe enough Andrew stopped and leaned against the wall of a bar building to catch his breath. He had done a good job of not being seen, but his heart was still racing.

An odd mix of excitement and fear had Andrew's stomach turning but he remembered his training and straightened up, inhaling deeply. He closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the wall.

 _You're safe,_ he told himself. _Nobody saw you._

"Andrew."

"Shit!" Andrew shouted in surprise, nearly pulling his gun back out when he heard a woman's voice next to him. But when his eyes opened he halted, breathing easy when he saw it was just Miranda. The Cerberus agent was holding up her arms and she shouted, "Hey! It's just me."

Andrew exhaled slowly and relaxed again. "Jesus." When he felt ready the recruit straightened himself up. Miranda leaned in closer and looked him up and down. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Andrew's mouth was suddenly very dry. "Had to make a break for it back there. Sorry I didn't…"

Miranda waved her hand. "Don't apologize." She let him take a second before she asked slowly and deliberately, "Just run me through what happened, again."

"Okay," he answered. "I tracked Izara to a warehouse. When he went inside I went to plant the bug on a window, but someone inside came my way." He looked around them, wanting to be sure no one was watching.

"When he left I was able to finish the job, then I ran."

As he told his story Andrew walked with Miranda into the bar. Afterwards they grabbed a booth on their own, and he sat in silence downing a glass of whiskey. Miranda's intense blue eyes were studying him the whole time. When Andrew was ready to order another glass she spoke up at last.

"We'll have to get back to the apartment to review what your bug picked up. I imagine you got quite a scare…" She raised her eyebrows meaningfully. "But you handled the pressure as any good agent should. You did well, Andrew, even if things didn't really go as planned."

Miranda's arm rose as if she was going to rest her hand on Andrew's. But after half a second she lowered it again awkwardly. He smiled gratefully. "Thanks." It was clear Miranda was still trying to patch things up after the field test. Andrew would be lying if he said he wasn't touched.

A thought from days ago crossed then Andrew's mind and he stifled a laugh. "You know," he said, "When you and Iver said that I'd be putting myself at risk, you _really_ weren't joking."

His superior grinned. "Don't worry," she replied. "You're in the clear now."

* * *

Andrew pulled up his skycar to the apartment behind Miranda's in the late afternoon, feeling significantly more relaxed. The two had stopped by that taco truck after the bar and he was ready to rest, at least for a short while. Soon enough Miranda was going to review any audio Andrew had picked up and notify the rest of their cell.

He sat in his car for a minute, watching Miranda while she parked her car and walked inside the apartment. Andrew thought about saying something to her, like " _Thanks for helping me out there._ " But there would be plenty of time for that later.

Turning off the engine Andrew stepped out. But when he looked up there was a man standing just twenty feet behind him, next to a skycar of his own. He was dressed in a heavy coat that looked rather baggy. Andrew squinted at the stranger, wondering if he was another Cerberus agent.

"Uh, hello." Andrew said hesitantly. "Something I can do to help you?"

The stranger swerved his head around, surveying the area. Andrew felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. There was an uneasy feeling already growing in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn't right about the stranger, the way the man's cold eyes finally settled back on him.

When he started to approach, there was an eerie calm in his tone that caused Andrew to take a step back. "Yes. Kevin Carson, I wanted to ask you couple questions."

"Sure." For the third time today Andrew remembered his pistol and unbuttoned his jacket. "What do you want to know?" Carson stopped when he was two feet away and leaned against Andrew's car. With a gulp he noticed that the man was almost a head taller than him.

"I saw you in town earlier today," Carson said softly. His eyes scanned their surroundings again. "You looked a bit shorter through that window."

Andrew's eyes widened. He looked at Carson's boots. They were massive, and when he took one more step forward there was an audible thud. With a clipping sound, the man's coat unbuttoned and a large metallic object gleamed inside. It was a military-grade rifle.

It took several seconds for Andrew to find his voice again. "I don't know what you're talking about." Carson grinned, an unpleasant sight. He looked like a wolf ready to rip Andrew's throat out. It was obvious he knew Andrew was lying.

"Really? Then if I pull _this_ out, you won't do anything, huh?"

Slowly Carson drew his hand inside to grab his gun. Andrew's eyes followed the sight, and he knew that in a few seconds he was either a hostage or dead. But then he saw the alarm light on the hood. Just next to Carson.

His instincts took over and Andrew sprang into action. The switch to his skycar's alarm system was attached to his omni-tool. A flick of the switch later, and a bright yellow light flashed across Carson's face. The vehicle's alarm blared loudly and the large thug flinched.

Andrew was on him before the man could even make a sound. He body slammed Carson, catching him off balance. The mercenary doubled over with a pained grunt as Andrew took Carson's head roughly. With all the force he could muster Andrew rammed his foe's head against the car door.

Carson's head was bloodied, but if Andrew had learned anything from studying mercenary rings or even observing other trainees in action, a man could take serious punishment before going down. He followed up with a knee to Carson's midsection and a haymaker to the face. Carson appeared dazed, and Andrew rushed for his rifle.

Iver had said once that it doesn't matter how badly Andrew beat someone. If they had a gun, then Andrew had to get it away from them no matter what.

But as he took hold of Carson's gun he felt two powerful hands seized him and was lifted off his feet. Andrew yelled in shock as Carson raised him up before throwing him to the hard concrete of the street below. The wind was knocked out of him before a wave of pain coursed along his back when Carson kicked him.

Andrew's vision blurred as he looked up. An ugly gash was opened across Carson's forehead, and his face was twisted in a feral snarl. "You little shit…" Carson's hands were back to scrambling with his weapon. But it looked like Andrew had thrown off his focus, and a drop of blood rolled into Carson's eye. The thug tried to blink it out hastily.

Raising his leg Andrew delivered a kick to Carson in the stomach.

And then once more, even as Carson keeled over.

And then agan.

Everything was going red around Andrew. The first time he remembered such a feeling was Mindoir, when the batarians laid siege. Any time he had been forced into a physical confrontation since, some uncontrollable anger had overtaken Andrew. Now it was happening again.

Andrew tried to regain control of himself before he slipped up and left himself vulnerable. But then he saw the man take the handle of the rifle and any thoughts of restraint were lost.

The pistol slid out from inside his jacket easily.

His arm almost guided itself towards the mercenary and Andrew's eyes narrowed.

Even with the silencer on, there was an audible _bang_ as he fired.

* * *

Miranda was barely past the lobby when she heard a commotion outside. She paused mid-step, perking up her ears to listen. Then two gunshots rang out and her stomach dropped.

"Andrew."

She turned her head back and glanced at Iver, who was facing her with a look of alarm. "I heard that too," he shouted. Before he was finished Miranda was already racing outside, and the Cerberus soldier followed. Miranda burst through the front door of the apartment building and gasped at what she saw at the sidewalk nearby.

A large man was on his knees with two bullet holes in his chest. A rifle lay nearby.

Standing over him, splattered with blood and with a cold emotionless look, was Andrew.

* * *

 **Author's Note: The first few times Andrew Hudson resorted to violence it was a harrowing, traumatizing experience. But it seemed a little easier for him this time, no?**

 **Miranda has seen Andrew pissed off before. But only now has she seen the side of him that can kill. This will change things.**

 **What will happen next? Is Carson dead? Are our Cerberus agents compromised?**

 **Stay tuned to find out!**


	18. Taking a Life

"Who is he?"

Miranda watched from outside an operating room as Cerberus medics stitching up the body of the unidentified man who had attacked Andrew.

"Hudson wasn't exactly in a chatty mood when we brought him in. Said the man called himself Kevin Carson." Iver was watching the operation next to Miranda with his arms crossed and his face stuck in an unpleasant scowl. "Doubt that's the bastard's real name. He's most likely a Blue Suns thug that salarian Izara brought along."

Whoever he was it was hard for Miranda to feel any sympathy for him. "He'd better be damn grateful we put in all that work to save him after what he did," she whispered more to herself than to Iver. "I'll have a few questions for him when he wakes up."

But he heard her and gave Miranda an infuriating smile. "If you're worried about your little boyfriend," he taunted, "Why don't you check in on him?"

Miranda shot Iver a look that would have sent any of her subordinate agents running for dear life. While she was concerned about Andrew's state of mind after what happened she was not about to let Iver question her handling of her own people.

"If you know what's good for you, Iver, you'll lose the sense of humor."

"Ach, use some of your old connections and buy one," Iver fired back. He must have noticed Miranda's hands balling into fists as he backed away in mock alarm. "Relax, Lawson, I'm just pulling your leg. Whatever you get up in on your own time's your own business."

"You'll do well to remember that," Miranda snapped.

Wanting to make sure she was absolutely clear she added, "Besides, you won't have to worry about any of that. I won't deny that Andrew is a valuable and trustworthy asset and a good man. But that's all there is to it, Iver. I don't have time for pointless attachments."

Iver nodded impatiently. "Yes, of course." He gestured to one of the doctors giving him and Miranda a thumbs up. "Well, I'm going in to check on our _guest's_ progress. I'll keep you posted." Iver went too the operating room door but paused to look back at Miranda one more time.

"But seriously though. Check in on Hudson. The man was… a bit tense when he went back to his quarters."

Miranda didn't doubt it. But there was something else that worried her. Something in Andrew's face when she and Iver found him holding Carson at gunpoint. Miranda had seen him angry, even enraged. But when gunning down the Blue Suns assassin Andrew had barely showed any emotion at all. Miranda was no stranger to killing in cold blood, but she never expected that from Andrew.

Perhaps there were still things about him even _she_ didn't know.

* * *

Andrew stood in his bathroom, his bloodstained visage reflected in the mirror in front of him.

The blood sprayed from Carson's bullet wounds soaked through the front of his jacket as well as his shirt, forcing Iver and Miranda to get Andrew and his badly wounded attacker inside. Half of Andrew's face was also covered in blood.

He looked his reflection up and down and winced when a sting of pain shot along his left side. Andrew pulled the shirt over his head and grimaced. Not all of the blood on his shirt was Carson's, it seemed. There a scrape along Andrew's ribs deep enough to drop blood and the skin around the wound was discolored.

When Andrew turned to get a better look his torso hurt even worse. Best-case scenario, judging from the pain one of his ribs may have even been cracked. He opened a case of medi-gel and applied it, sighing when the pain began to fade. For any more treatment Andrew would have to see one Cerberus' medics.

Once it was done Andrew turned on the faucet and washed the rest of the gore from his face and neck, then stood in silence for a good minute staring back at his reflection. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing Carson's face the moment Andrew shot him.

The man had gone almost blank with shock when the first bullet struck him just below the right shoulder. The second landed just below Carson's heart, ending the fight. It was hard for Andrew to remember but he guessed it was only seconds later that Miranda and Iver came out to intervene.

He couldn't imagine what his superiors thought when they'd seen him out there. Even when he had lost his cool during the field test or shouted at Miranda afterwards she still hadn't seemed to gauge what he was truly capable of. She probably guessed this was the first time he'd ever actually shot someone. And she wasn't exactly wrong.

But if Carson had died from his wounds, this wouldn't have been the first time Andrew killed a man. Miranda wouldn't have any way of knowing that. Andrew himself had almost forgotten. How he'd found Rhoya during the Alliance attack. How long he had taken to kill the batarian. And how he had almost enjoyed it.

But this time, shooting Carson, Andrew hadn't felt a thing.

Several sharp knocks at the door brought Andrew back to the moment. He walked out of his bathroom and to his door. He knew exactly who it would be and wondered whether he was in a lecture or the 'are you okay' speech he'd seen in countless crime shows, usually after some poor bastard was in a shootout.

Opening the door impatiently Andrew saw Miranda standing in the hall. "Hello," she said stiffly. Miranda's eyes darted up and down and she cleared her throat while her face reddened.

Andrew felt a pang of embarrassment. In his hurry he'd completely forgot his lack of clothing. "Oh, sorry." He stepped back from the door towards a closet on the wall. "Come on in," he said and reached inside for a clean long-sleeved shirt.

"Thank you," Miranda replied. Andrew heard her heeled boots clack on his floor and turned to face her. Just as his shirt rolled down his chest he thought he caught the Cerberus agent catching another glimpse of him before Andrew covered up completely.

Her eyes darted away and Miranda asked, "How are you holding up?" She gestured to his torso. "Looked like you took a bad hit out there."

"Yeah, I'll talk to the doc about it. What about our new friend?"

Miranda sneered at the mention of Carson. "We had to provide an emergency blood transfusion to keep the son of a bitch alive. They just finished cleaning Carson's wounds, and we'll have him ready for questioning as soon as he wakes up."

Andrew sighed. That was probably the best they could hope for. Especially if the mercenary and his friends had discovered the bug he left behind. "I'll be there to watch," he said with a smug smile.

"I'm not sure if that's such a good idea." Miranda's look turned wary. "For now you should just look after yourself. You've done a lot of good today, now let me take it from here."

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

Miranda didn't look like she believed him for a second. "Listen to me," she said firmly. "I'm trying to help you. After a close call like that the last thing we need…"

"I said I'm fine," Andrew repeated. It wasn't a lie, not really. But it frustrated him that Miranda was trying to coddle him like this. Trying to sound less confrontational Andrew calmed his voice and said, "Trust me, Miranda. I've seen a lot worse than this."

The dark-haired woman's face turned sympathetic when she realized exactly what he meant. "I know you have," she replied. "It's not about that." Miranda hesitated as if there was something else she wanted to say.

"Then what?" Andrew asked.

Miranda's blue eyes wavered. "Andrew," she said carefully, "Most people, when they kill someone for the first time they have trouble coping with it. Some shut everyone out, others break down. But you…" She trailed off.

"You're handling it alarmingly well. Iver likes to mock you and the others for being 'amateurs', but you didn't gun Carson down like one. If we hadn't come out, you might have killed him."

"So?" Andrew regarded Miranda placidly.

" _So,_ I want to know if there's something you haven't told me," Miranda said loudly. "You told me you've seen horrible things. I don't want to have to open old wounds, but when you were on Mindoir did you do something you've come to regret?"

Andrew had a feeling he knew where she was going with this, and he didn't like it. "I don't regret a single thing I had to do to survive, Miranda." He held his ground even as his superior shook her head.

"Then why don't you just tell me? I know there's something you're hiding, Andrew, don't try to lie to me." Before Andrew could throw the accusation back in her face and remind her of the false interrogation she had subjected him to, Miranda raised a finger and silenced him.

"I know what you're going to say, so don't bother. I've made _every_ effort to be honest with you since then, told you nothing but the truth. That has to go both ways, remember?"

"I remember!" Andrew yelled at Miranda, unable to help himself. He shut his mouth and took a deep breath. "Sorry," he grunted. "That wasn't called for."

He sat down on his bed and rested his forehead in his hands. Miranda was going to keep probing him like this until he said something, Andrew knew it. Her ability to see right through him and the others never ceased to amaze him.

Or piss him off.

"Fine." Andrew looked back up at Miranda, making a considerable effort not to just leave. "When the Alliance came to free Mindoir I fought one of the batarian slavers." He held up his hands in a defensive shrug.

"And I killed him. Is that what you want to hear?"

Andrew expected Miranda to be upset. He expected her to start lecturing him, and take them right back where they were four days ago. But to his shock Miranda simply leaned back and nodded almost sympathetically.

"Okay."

That was the last thing Andrew had expected to hear. He stammered half-heartedly as Miranda waited in silence. "That's it? No lecture, no scolding? That's something big to hide from you people. Some of the analysts working for Cerberus tested me and grilled me and I didn't tell any of them what I just told you."

"Expected me to be upset, did you?" When Andrew nodded in confusion Miranda said, "I can understand why you'd want to hide this. Taking a life is no small thing. It's something many of us will have to face sooner or later but it doesn't make the choice any easier." Her head tilted forward, and Miranda glared at Andrew from under her dark eyebrows.

"But don't mistake me, this _is_ something you should have told us Andrew."

Andrew rubbed the back of his neck. "I know."

The two fidgeted in place before Miranda asked, "How did he die? The batarian?"

"Bled out," Andrew answered. "Gave him a really bad cut or two." Once again Andrew found himself telling Miranda only half of the truth. On Mindoir, the slaver he had spent what felt like an eternity mutilated had finally expired after the shock of his torture and blood loss was too much for him.

It wasn't defense, as Miranda would likely want to believe. It was murder.

But none of that was her concern. Andrew waited for Miranda to reply, drumming his fingers on his bed tensely.

"Well," Miranda said, "Now that I know _why_ you seemed barely fazed by shooting Carson I suppose there isn't much point in sheltering you. If you want to help any further in investigating his associates you may do so…" She raised a finger.

"But we'll be going after more like Carson, and I don't want any close calls like today. You're going to stay put for now, and the next time you go out, you'll be with me."

Andrew had no objections. "Sounds good to me," he said. "I'll feel a lot safer knowing you're out there. I imagine you've seen a good deal more action than me." He wasn't ashamed to admit it. Knowing that Miranda was a biotic, Andrew hated to imagine what she could have done to Carson if he hadn't shot the man himself.

"Yes I have." Miranda smirked. "If we run into any trouble I'll try not to show off too much. In the meantime, get yourself some proper medical attention for that scrape on the rib. Once that's done come by and I'll fill you in on what we learned from Carson. Or whatever his name really is."

Before Miranda could turn to leave Andrew held up a hand. "Miranda, I… I appreciate you coming her and checking up on me like this. Thanks."

"I appreciate you opening up and telling me truth," Miranda replied sincerely. "It'll be good knowing that I can go out in the field with someone I can trust. Thank _you._ "

* * *

Later that night Andrew was lying in bed, entering a personal log onto his omni-tool as most recruits were expected. He'd given up on sleep hours before and figured he needed something to keep him occupied.

He felt someone stir on the other side of the mattress. "You don't think I did the right thing, do you? Andrew asked and turned to the girl opposite him. "Lying to Miranda?"

The outline of a younger woman was illuminated by the city lights outside. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest like she had many times when she was younger.

"I don't really see it ending well," Jolene said bluntly. "Assuming of course she finds out. You're a lot better at lying than you used to be. Remember that time you stole Dad's power torch?"

Andrew rolled his eyes in embarrassment. "Couldn't even look him in the eye," he laughed. It was true, in the past lying had never been his strong suit. Just one of many things that had changed.

"I'll tell her the truth someday."

Jolene tilted her head to the side and asked, "Before or after you shoot someone else? Your new friends needed this guy. The next one you take out might not be so lucky."

"I wouldn't exactly call Carson _lucky_." Before he went to bed Miranda sent Andrew a message that Carson would be giving them all the answers they would need by morning.

"They're giving him the works. Scare tactics, truth serums, a few electric shocks."

The look of disgust on Jolene's face was almost comical. "Urgh. I don't envy him. But, still, not much you haven't done right?"

"I guess not." Andrew's voice barely registered above a whisper, knowing exactly what Jolene meant. He lay his head back on his pillow and stared up at the ceiling instead of at his sister. Cerberus had put him on this mission not even twenty-four hours ago, yet it felt so much longer to Andrew. He would have to get used to it as time went on, he thought.

When she spoke again Jolene's voice sounded far off. "How much does taking a life actually mean to you now? Do you even stop to think about it?"

Andrew felt himself waking up from the dream and he gazed at Jolene one more time before she disappeared.

"Every day."

* * *

Light years away from Horizon a short, rat faced man hurried through the streets of a massive ancient space station. Every street corner was bathed in a dim red light, as if the station itself was bleeding.

The man, an intelligence gatherer named Pierce, hid his features under the hood of his jacket. It was best not to draw any attention to oneself where he was. He took a sharp turn down into a grimy industrial zone. Pierce weaved past pipes spewing clouds of steam until he reached an open alleyway where several armed pirates waited for him.

One was a black-skinned turian decorated in intensely violet facial markings. The rest were batarians, all covered in various scars. Pierce moved through them at a frantic pace, his eyes darting between the aliens.

"Master, I got a report from the Blue Suns stationed on Horizon."

At the back of the assembly an imposing figure clad in black armor glowered at Pierce with his arms folded. His already deep voice was distorted by the mask covering his face. "It's about time. What news do they carry?"

Pierce heard the gap he'd weaved through close behind him as the pirates converged, and gulped audibly. "The good news is that there's going to be a shipment of element zero passing near the border of the Terminus Systems. You'll have a short window of opportunity to get ahold of it. It'll be enough to purchase at least a hundred mercs and raiders to help you look for the artifact."

The turian he'd passed on his way in hovered nearby. "It's not much," he said to the leader of the group. "But it's more than you've had for a while, sir."

"And the bad news?" The dark pirate leader approached Pierce slowly.

Pierce fumbled with a datapad before handing it to his master. "One of the enforcers disappeared about nine hours ago. He reported someone lurking near the base of operations, and went after them. He… hasn't reported since."

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. As his master's concealed head cocked dangerously, Pierce started to shake uncontrollably. "Please," he begged. "Don't…"

But it was too late. His head was suddenly wracked in horrible pain and Pierce convulsed until he keeled over. The poor man's hood was thrown back to reveal the source of his agony.

A metal implant placed on the back of his skull.

The batarian leader waited until Pierce was barely moving anymore to switch the implant off. "We'll have to accelerate things," he rumbled and gestured for two of his men to help Pierce back up.

"Take him back to the ship. We leave in half an hour."

He watched them escort his slave away. His turian lieutenant, a former soldier named Krassus, waited until they were gone to speak up. "Sir, this artifact you're having us look for. How do you know it even exists?"

The pirate leader turned to Krassus. "Because," he told him, "I've been searching for it for over a decade. Four years ago, I nearly had the resources available to find it."

The two walked together out of the lower levels and back to the streets of the space station, past a brightly light nightclub with the word _AFTERLIFE_ emblazoned brightly above the entrance.

"This artifact is in human space, Krassus. I won't let the setback we suffered on Mindoir stop us, we _must_ find it. Before the humans do.

We must find the Dark Beacon. And kill anyone in our way."

* * *

 **Author's Note: I'm baaaack!**

 **Yeah, it's been a while since I last uploaded a chapter here. Sorry about that, winter finals and getting ready for a new semester got in the way. But I'm back, and ready to keep going.  
**

 **I know what you're thinking. Dark Beacon? Sounds like something Prothean doesn't it? Maybe, maybe not. You'll just have to wait and see. That one pirate sounds eerily familiar as well...**

 **In the meantime Andrew's training period has just been cut short. He's going to be thrown headlong into this new mission with Miranda, and they'll all find out the truth of what's going on here.**

 **And it won't be pretty.**


	19. An Old Pain

**May 30, 2174**

Andrew stripped off the bandage from his treatment, ignoring the pain. The cell's doctor, Michaels, had done his job well. Just a night's recovery and the torn skin had healed over almost completely. In another day, it would look good as new.

He had more important things to worry about anyway. Miranda's team had an entire night to work on Carson and Andrew wanted to know everything he'd told them. A part of him wondered what they would do with the mercenary afterwards. Would he be coerced into working for Cerberus? Would he be kept prisoner or killed?

"I guess I'll find out soon enough."

When he was fully dressed Andrew made his way quickly to the apartment elevator and took a ride down to the holding cells where Carson was being kept. With a ding the door opened and he was barely out when Miranda appeared.

"Morning," she said. It looked like she had been waiting for him.

"Morning." Andrew pointed behind her and said impatiently, "What did we get from Carson?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Well, for starters we can stop calling him that. It's not his real name, just an alias supplied by our friend Izara." She cocked her head back to a window, where Andrew could see what had become of his attacker.

He cringed for a moment as he saw the mercenary strapped to an interrogation chair not unlike the one he'd been seated in during his test. Red, unbandaged needle marks stood out on his neck and his nose was bleeding. "Carson" seemed to be in a stupor, not fully aware of his surroundings.

"Burt Turner," Miranda said. "A Blue Suns assassin, brought in as some extra muscle for Izara and his business partners."

Andrew nodded. "Who are these partners?"

Miranda kept him close and led him away from the cell, where Turner continued to sway groggily. "Turner didn't know any of these people's names, but from what we gathered Izara's connections go further than we imagined. He's not just working with the Blue Suns, but with an entire coalition of Terminus-based pirates and slavers. They've been using his gathered intel to raid human shipments of element zero and other valuable resources."

Andrew bristled at the thought of innocent crews being ambushed and attacked by men like the one who'd nearly killed him just a day ago. "What for?" he asked. "Purchasing weapons? Buying loyalty from other gang leaders?"

"Yes and no." Miranda sounded uncharacteristically anxious. "Turner said that the leader of this syndicate is trying to gather a small army to journey into human space, but not as an all-out invasion force."

Making no effort to hide his confusion Andrew shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense," he replied. "If it isn't money or slaves this ring is after, then what?" He had a feeling he already knew Miranda's answer, but he had to ask.

"I don't know. We couldn't get anything more out of Turner. Frankly, I doubt he could give us any more even if we'd gone on." She reached the elevator and pressed the button to take them back to the ground floor. Her eyes fell, staring off into space.

"All we could gather is that they're looking for something. Something this syndicate leader wants _desperately_."

"Then what do we do now?"

Andrew watched Miranda finger the machine pistol at her hip, and her face darkened. "We get a group together and pay Izara a little visit," she said coolly. "And see if he can tell us anything Turner couldn't. As for Turner himself, he's done all he can for the Blue Suns and for us. There's not much point in keeping him around is there?"

For a moment Andrew felt just a bit of pity for Turner, but he thought of what Miranda had said of this group involving slavers and any pity left his heart. Turner was a traitor working with these people, selling out his own kind to be bought and sold and killed. Whatever happened to him next, he deserved it.

"No," Andrew said passively. "I guess not."

* * *

Izara rushed through a stack of files on his desk, his armed escort waiting near the doors of the warehouse. He wasn't about to take any chances, it was time to leave.

"You almost done there?" One hawkish man carrying a modified rifle rapped the wall loudly next to Izara.

The salarian's wide black eyes screwed shut in frustration and he wringed his hands. "Just a second," he said. Deciding not to waste any time with staying organized Izara grabbed all his filed and dropped them into a pack which he promptly slung around his shoulders.

"Ready. Let's get out of here!"

Izara ran to his bodyguards, the group gathering around him. "I'll see you well compensated, gentlemen…" It took a lot to remain composed as Izara reached the door to the alleyway. "I understand if you feel rather cross at this change of plan, but my employer will be in a far worse mood if we…"

He opened the door only to freeze on the spot, his whole body going numb.

Standing outside were three humans. One was a middle-aged man in a dark jacket, his greying blonde hair swept back and his eyes boring straight through Izara. The second was a powerfully built woman with a shaved head, cracking her knuckles menacingly. At the head of the trio was another woman, clad in a skintight black and white uniform and with a pistol clutched in her hand.

"Morning," she drawled.

Izara couldn't tell exactly what happened next as he cowered to the ground and a burst of sound erupted around him. Disoriented, he could make out shattering glass and an electric blue light that sizzled past him on either side.

Without thinking, he ran. Ran as fast as he could through all the chaos until he was at the back of the warehouse. He activated the door in a panic and was out before it was even halfway open. In just a few seconds Izara would be out on the streets. Whoever these people were, they wouldn't risk attacking him in public.

But his hopes were dashed as a dark shape rushed into view and collided with him head on. Izara heard a rough voice growl, "Nice try, asshole." A hand clamped down hard over Izara's mouth before he could so much as yelp and he was shoved back into the warehouse.

When the door closed behind them the broker was tossed to the floor, spotting his assailant. It was the male human, glowering down at Izara with a look of disgust. Izara crawled backwards from the man but felt a spot of wetness on the floor. Something sticky and warm. Holding up his fingers he saw they were stained red, and whirled around in terror.

The hawkish Blue Suns guard's rifle lay uselessly at his side, splattered by blood from a gaping hole in his skull. And scattered across the room were the scorched and bullet ridden remains of the rest. In less than a minute the hardened mercenaries Izara's employer had supplied him with had been massacred.

"Right," the black-and-white clad woman said and holstered her gun. A faint glow of what Izara realized was biotics still lingered around her. "Izara, is it? We need to talk."

The salarian was pulled to his feet roughly, and shoved back to his desk by Joanie. Miranda strolled towards him and placed a hand on her hip cockily, amused by his distress. She'd met plenty of men like Izara before. They were always so full of themselves, so superior. But one mishap and each of them was reduced to a shaking, sweaty mess.

"My name is Miranda Lawson. Yesterday one of your men nearly attacked my friend here," she said and pointed to her male companion. "You've probably guessed by now, it didn't end well for him."

Izara's eyes bugged out of their skull when Miranda mentioned Turner and he bleated, "Who are you?"

Miranda leaned in and glared at Izara face to face. "Never mind that. All you need understand is that my people and I know what you've been up to. Now you're going to tell us _why_."

Behind her Andrew dropped Izara's bag of data files and rummaged through them while Izara started to talk, stammering haplessly. "I'm only doing what I was told to! I was messaged little over a month ago by this bigshot batarian from the Terminus Systems, he said he needed information. He paid some good money for the info I've been giving him!"

Miranda spat, "Excuse me while I try not to throw up in my mouth," and gestured for Joanie to watch him. The younger woman pressed the barrel of her own gun against one of Izara's horns while Miranda approached Andrew.

"Find anything interesting?"

"Sure did." Andrew's voice was low but tense. "There's records of Alliance fleet movements, lists of element zero deposits…" His brow furrowed. "And something about research into Prothean artifacts…"

The Protheans. Just the name alone caught Miranda's attention and she asked, "Protheans? The Council hasn't found a substantial Prothean ruin in years, let alone the Alliance."

"No," Andrew muttered. "This is different. This research data wasn't meant to be released to the public.. It's something different, something a private human expedition has been tracking. Something called the _Dark Beacon._ " He shrugged at Miranda. "Does that mean anything to you?"

She gazed at Andrew vacantly. Miranda was a woman who prided herself on knowing just about everything there was to know. But for the first time in a while she was, for lack of a better word, stumped.

Directing her firearm back at Izara, Miranda barked, "And what the hell is the Beacon?"

"I don't know!" The broker's voice was shrill and he waved his hands pitifully. "I swear I don't know! All I know is that my contact wants this thing badly, says it could change everything for his people. You know batarians, they're sick of humans and the Council butting in on their business. Especially after that disaster on Mindoir…"

"Enough." Miranda cut him off. There wasn't any point in listening to his groveling if Izara didn't have anything else to tell them. "We need to get this information to the Illusive Man," she said to her teammates.

"He said he's dealt with old artifacts before, so if anyone will know what to do it's him"

She put her gun away and Izara blinked at her. "So… what happens to me?"

"You're coming with us," Miranda said in disgust. "I hope you enjoyed your _"_ _good money"_ while it lasted, you won't have any use for it in the hole we put you in until we decide what to do with you."

Gesturing for Joanie to pick him up she ordered, "Let's go."

But Andrew didn't budge. He remained in place, the only movement Miranda could spot being the movement of his eyes. They were twitching back and forth between Miranda and Izara. His jaw worked furiously and in a voice that caused Miranda's skin to crawl he said, "Mindoir."

He moved slowly towards Izara, who was back on his feet with Joanie pressing the barrel of a heavy pistol against his back. "Why did you say that name?" he asked quietly.

Izara appeared afraid to answer. "I... I heard this boss did some operation on Mindoir some time ago. Collected a few hundred humans as slaves, but he got a bunch of his own men killed…" His voice faltered before he added, "He was missing an eye."

If looks could kill, Andrew's gaze would have had Izara dropping dead on the spot. Miranda watched as his fists clenched until his knuckles were white. Miranda knew how close her partner was to doing something they'd all regret and gestured for Joanie to pull Izara out.

She watched as they disappeared out the door and exhaled deeply, her voice echoing through the empty warehouse. This was bad, and she knew it. Allowing her sympathy for Andrew to come through she muttered, "I'm sorry, Andrew."

"Don't be," he said flatly. His voice didn't register any hint of emotion but Miranda knew better.

She thought back to when she had first read his profile. Whatever horrors had transpired on Mindoir, Andrew had been there and seen them firsthand. "I don't know what to say," she remarked.

Andrew shook his head. "Then don't."

His body moved stiffly as he crossed over to Izara's desk. Andrew was still for a moment before he tensed up and suddenly raised his fist, bringing it down onto the desk with a scream. Miranda winced as she watched his knuckles cave the plastic surface of the desk in with an audible crack, and a pool of red quickly spread out from the impact.

Andrew clearly wasn't ready to stop there, as he then picked up the salarian's chair and tossed it nearly fifteen feet, still crying out in what Miranda realized was not anger but pain. Pain of the worst kind.

Not wanting to wait and see what else Andrew would do in his frustration Miranda shouted, "Andrew!" When he stopped and looked at her she saw Andrew's eyes were wet. Her ears burned and Miranda realized this was easily the most vulnerable she had ever seen him. More so than back in London. More than even in his mock interrogation.

It was like she was looking at a different man entirely. Someone damaged beyond even Miranda's help.

It was an awful sight, and Miranda wasn't sure what to do. "Andrew," she managed after hesitating twice, "I need you to stay with me." Approaching him cautiously she put her hand on his shoulder. "We'll find a way to fix this. You can help us do it."

"Yeah," Andrew rasped. "I can." He drew a shaky breath and said, "The batarian who contacted Izara. The leader of this ring. I know who he is."

Miranda gave him an understanding look. "Then come with me."

* * *

" _I won't lie to you, Miranda. This is easily the most disturbing news I've been given in a good while._ "

In an empty room beneath the Cerberus base, a hologram of the Illusive Man stood over Miranda and Andrew. He was sitting in a chair and illuminated by an orange light from behind him, though from what Andrew couldn't tell.

The Illusive Man's usual cigarette was forgotten as the leader of Cerberus folded his hands ponderously. " _Mindoir was an unspeakable tragedy. One I would rather humanity doesn't suffer again._ "

His eerie blue eyes focused on Andrew. " _So, this batarian. Greyon Drak'har. You have personal experience with him?_ "

"Yes." Andrew nodded slightly. "He said he was a warrior given free range to go out and attack human space by his leaders. I was his slave after attacking one of his men in the invasion."

" _And afterwards, when the Alliance retook the colony? Did you ever find out what happened to him?_ "

"They told me he was captured. I don't know how he could have escaped."

The Illusive Man paused, seeming to process this. "I _do. It's not uncommon for warlords and criminal leaders to have one of their own stand in for them if caught. It's more than likely Drak'har made his escape while a lieutenant stayed to face the Alliance._ "

It was obvious the Illusive Man could sense the wave of different emotions washing over Andrew and the shadowed figure said, " _If you feel uncomfortable discussing this, we could wait for you to fill out a report…_ "

"No."

Miranda's head whirled towards him and her eyes bugged. Andrew himself was taken aback. Had he really just interrupted Cerberus' leader?

"I mean, I'm fine. I can handle this. Whatever you need to know, whatever I can do to help, I'll do it."

He kicked himself mentally for being so hasty. But to his surprise the Illusive Man simply leaned back in his chair and gave a respectful nod. " _I'm glad to hear it. Because we'll be taking immediate action on this._

 _If there's one thing I've learned from the technology the Protheans left behind, it's that they did so for a reason. And they weren't the only ones. This Dark Beacon may very well be Prothean. Or it may not. Whatever the case, I'm not willing to wait for belligerent anti-human renegades to get ahold of it._ "

He pointed at Miranda forcefully. " _Miranda, I want you and Mr. Hudson to get together a team and investigate any archeological findings within recent years. And when we know exactly what it is we're looking for, we'll get it before Drak'har and his allies do._ "

"And then?" Miranda asked.

The Illusive Man's demeanor turned grim. " _Then we put an end to his crusade before any more innocent lives are lost._ "

She saluted him and answered, "Yes, sir."

"What about Izara?" Andrew wasn't going to let either of his superiors forget their newest prisoner.

With a grunt the Illusive Man shrugged and reached into the arm of his chair, finally pulling out a new cigarette. He lit it and took a deep puff before replying, " _He's just another loose end. If what you told me is true and he has nothing more to offer us, then there's no point in keeping him alive._ "

A heavy silence fell over both Andrew and Miranda. He'd expected this answer, even hoping for it. "Yes, sir," Miranda repeated and the projection of the Illusive Man flickered before vanishing completely.

"Get your things ready, we'll be headed out tomorrow. I'll deal with Izara."

When Andrew shook his head she rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. "I know what you're thinking."

"Then you know I'm not in the mood for a ' _no'_ ," Andrew told her bluntly. "If Izara's going to die, then he should know why."

Miranda appeared to consider what he was telling her but unwilling to accept it so he kept going.

"Miranda, you said we needed to trust each other. I know what I'm doing, and if I'm going to be a part of this then I don't imagine this will be the last time I'll get my hands dirty." He raised his eyebrows at her.

"You told me you came to Cerberus to look out for someone you cared about. I didn't get that chance. But I now I can make this right, make the ones responsible for what happened pay for it."

As he went on, Miranda's features softened. The mention of her unknown friend drew a scowl but it quickly vanished by the time Andrew was finished. She shifted side to side before crossing her arms and assuming her usual casual pose. "If you're so sure about this, there's nothing I can do to change your mind is there?"

She said with a slight smile, "It's true. You do remind me of myself when I was new. Though I can't really tell if that's good or bad. So, I'll be keeping a close eye on you while we're out there. We'll need to extra teamwork going forward.

I hope you're as ready as you think you are. There won't be any more training after this."

* * *

The door to Izara's cell dimly lit cell opened with a hiss. Fidgeting in the corner the salarian looked up and saw Andrew coming in with a hand in his pocket.

"Good news," Andrew said affably. "You're getting out of here."

Izara blinked incredulously. "Really?" He sprang to his feet and seemed to bounce in place. It was a darkly amusing sight. "Thank you, I promise I won't be causing any more trouble for you people, whoever you are!"

"That's good to hear." Andrew handed the salarian a silvery object. "Here's a little something for your trouble. I appreciate you not running back there and just telling us what we needed to know. It was pretty helpful."

The broker peered at the small object in his hand. It was a pin of some kind. "Silver. Seems rather modest, but still valuable. What is it?"

"It's a pin from Mindoir High," Andrew told him. "A school from the colony your friends destroyed. Belonged to one of the staff members. I took it as a memento." His lip pulled back in a not at all friendly smile. "I haven't washed it a day since, notice something?"

He watched the salarian's eyes narrow as he observed the pin. There was a dark ruddy stain at the edge, and after another second Izara's mouth fell open.

"Blood?"

"That shouldn't matter, should it?" Andrew pulled in until he was inches away from Izara.

"You've been making a living off blood money for a while now. A couple more drops shouldn't make much of a difference."

A deafening _BANG_ reverberated in the cell. Izara fell without a word, his face frozen in the same look of shock. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Andrew peered down at the dead prisoner for half a minute. Just as before, he felt numb at the bloody sight just as with Carson. It was a relief, he thought. What he'd told Miranda was true, he would kill many more before this was over.

But there was only one death that would satisfy him now.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Revenge is a slippery slope. How far is too far?**

 **We'll find out soon enough. More details of this Dark Beacon are coming, and as the story goes on we will see more death, more intrigue and Andrew will go through yet another change. Will he and Miranda open up to each other entirely? And what will happen should Drak'har and Andrew come face to face again?**

 **All in due time, friends. All in due time.**


	20. The Race Begins

**June 11, 2174**

By the time the public transport touched down on the public landing pad it wasn't just raining. It was pouring. The doors opened and a gaggle of young tourists were met with a faceful of water. "Crap," a human girl wailed. "My hair!"

"Heh" Next to the girl, her asari girlfriend giggled and looked up at the top of her own head, where the raindrops simply bounced off. "Come on, it's not _that_ bad."

As the couple teased each the rest of the transport emptied. In the middle of the group two humans dressed in heavy coats stuck close to each other until they reached the baggage aisle of the spaceport. The man lowered his hood and shook whatever water had soaked through out of his hair. "I thought you said the weather on Illium was nice this time of year," Andrew grumbled to Miranda.

"It usually is," she protested and wrung out several drops from her hair. "But not even _I'm_ right all the time."

They stopped at a terminal, where a smiling asari clerk sat with her hands folded in front of her. "Here to pick up our luggage, please."

With a swipe of her omni-tool the receptionist checked their passports. "Welcome to Nos Astra, Mr. and Mrs. Danvers. I hope you enjoy your stay." She waved them along before welcoming the next arrivals.

Unlike their last assignment, Miranda was in just as much need of an alias as Andrew. Looking at the place for the first time, Andrew had difficulty believing it at first. Illium was a beautiful planet, easily the most advanced Andrew had ever seen.

But the ease at which he and Miranda had passed their bags through customs told him everything. When they picked their luggage up once more Andrew stopped off near the doors leading to outside the spaceport and opened his bag.

His Raikou line pistol was still there, as were several surveillance bugs and a combat knife.

"Not exactly tight on security."

"Don't let the gorgeous locales fool you," Miranda told him. "Illium is a dangerous place. She surveyed the city of Nos Astra with a disdainful look. "The only real differences between here and somewhere like Omega are class and wealth. If Omega is a slum, then Illium is the boardroom up in the office building where "getting fired" is just code for someone rubbing you out."

Andrew walked with her through the front entrance of the spaceport as they called for a taxi. "Wow. You _really_ didn't want to come here, did you?"

"No." Miranda's tone was sharp. "Trust me Andrew, I'm speaking from experience."

A skycar pulled up to where they waited, and the two rushed in together. A turian female sat in the front and looked back at them with a welcoming nod. "Afternoon, sir. Ma'am. Where to?"

"Brad's Bookstore, please," Miranda said to the woman in a remarkably convincing southern drawl.

The turian driver started up her vehicle and grinned. "Great place. I was just there myself yesterday, Mister Evans said he was expecting some old friends."

Andrew and Miranda shared a knowing look. "That'd be us," he said.

"I'll have you there in less than five minutes," their driver replied. "I know this corner of the city

Miranda smiled cheerfully. "Well thank you kindly, it's awful out there."

True enough, the cab flew for just a couple of minutes before Andrew felt it slow down. "Here we are," the driver proclaimed. "Hope you two lovebirds enjoy catching up, Evans said he was anxious to see you again."

"Thank you so much," Andrew told her and paid the fee along with a small tip. "Hope you get home safely, it's crazy out here." As he got out and watched the cab fly away Andrew thought about what Miranda told him about Illium. He wondered if the turian was friendly just as part of the job or whether she'd been as sincere as she looked.

Thinking of the last turian he'd allowed himself to trust, Andrew felt like he already knew the answer.

"Let's go on in." Miranda gestured to a modestly-sized sign above them. It was neon, just like every other sign Andrew had noticed on their way through the city.

 **BRAD'S BOOKSTORE**

They walked in out of the rain, and Andrew felt himself greeted by a comfortably warm feeling and smiled at the sight in front of him. Bradley Evans' store was a neatly arranged room with rows of historical texts, crime novels, and even Shakespeare along each wall. Andrew passed by one shelf and scanned the novels there.

Dracula. The Call of Cthulhu. Frankenstein.

Evans was obviously a horror fan as well, Andrew thought to himself as he proceeded to the front desk with Miranda. But Evans wasn't there.

"Oh, for god's sake," Miranda groaned. " _Evans, where are you?_ "

A muffled voice from a hallway at the back shouted, " _I'll be out in a second, Lawson. Hold your horses!_ " There was some shuffling before Bradley Evans came out with a datapad and a worn looking text under his arm.

Bradley Evans was of roughly the same height as Andrew, if not one or two inches taller. His brown hair was swept backwards, showing a broad face littered with an unkempt stubble. Bradley's clothes were simple and rather frumpy, and he slouched when he sat down on the opposite side of the desk as Miranda, but a quick look over told Andrew that the man may have been in much better shape than he let on.

"Well, Miranda…" Bradley gave a cocky smile and raised his eyebrows at Andrew's superior. "Certainly didn't expect to see _you_ again. You must be in some deep trouble to come back here."

His voice carried a mischievous note to it, suggesting he had done something to make Miranda very upset in the past. Sure enough, Andrew noticed her visibly bristling before she answered, "Believe me, Evans, coming was the last thing I wanted. But you're someone with the right knowledge to help us out. This is just business."

"Of course. Always the consummate professional, Miss Lawson!"

Bradley folded his hands and visibly resisted the urge to laugh before straightening up. "Now, who's your friend?"

"This is Andrew Hudson," Miranda replied. "He's a recent recruit into my cell, and he's helping with our latest mission."

While she spoke, Andrew stared at Bradley in bemusement. When Miranda gave him a briefing on Bradley Evans, she'd described him as the most educated and intelligent archivist her Cerberus cell had at its disposal. Andrew had expected someone rather bookish and awkward. Bradley was neither, coming across as any one of the meat headed football players at Andrew's high school.

Then again, Miranda had also said that Evans once cracked an asari database on Thessia and stole an entire historical volume just because he _could_. Looking back at a pile of books next to him Andrew spotted a Sherlock Holmes novel. He thought of the title character and grimaced, realizing exactly what kind of person he and Miranda were dealing with.

Clearing his throat after a moment's hesitation Andrew said, "We're here to look into old relics from the Prothean era. More specifically, something called the Dark Beacon."

There was a flash in Bradley's eyes. He looked back and forth between the two visitors and he suddenly took on the appearance of some college professor. Bradley gave Miranda a look that said, ' _is he serious?_ ' and when she nodded back the archivist let out a long breath before looking out around the store. Most likely to double check whether they were alone.

"It's a slow day," he said. "We can afford going to the back for a few minutes. Follow me."

Moving out from behind his desk with surprising speed Bradley led them into the hallway from which he'd emerged. Andrew thought about asking where they were going, but Bradley was way ahead of him. Bradley stopped in front of a bookshelf half-stocked with boxes of files and held out a finger in front of the second to the top.

"Oh, you're going to _love_ this…" Miranda sounded both annoyed and bored.

Andrew opened his mouth to asked what she was talking about but she simply directed his attention back to the wall. Bradley was waving his hand dramatically in front of the row, and with a flourish he pressed a finger on one of the boxes. A faint _ping_ rang out and the entire shelf pulled back into the wall before the whole bookshelf rotated, revealing a door into a hidden room.

"A hidden door in a bookcase. Kind of obvious, don't you think?"

Bradley answered Andrew with a waggling of his eyebrows. "And that's why it works. Not too many asari are going to watch those old vintage movies where some secret passageway opens up behind an old, dusty bookcase. And besides, who would ever guess something so obvious would actually exist out here?

This is Illium. Nobody ever goes for the _obvious_ answer."

Unable to think of any comeback Andrew kept his mouth closed. As eccentric as he was already finding Bradley, the man had a point.

The three filed into the dark room and the "door" closed behind them. For a second the room was pitch black, before a light in the opposite wall flickered to life. Andrew blinked twice while his eyes adjusted, and when he could make out the source of the light his jaw dropped.

On the wall was what looked like a rotating column, glowing from the inside with a violent orange light. The object seemed to be moving, and when Andrew took a step closer he saw that it was in fact made of rotating disks, each stacked on top of the other. They moved in and out of each other in a spiraling pattern, and the orange light from the center followed their movements.

"What the hell is that thing?" Andrew said in awe.

"That's my own private library," Bradley proclaimed, beaming proudly. "My _A.R.C._ Archived Research Collection."

He paused as if for dramatic effect. Andrew wondered how long Bradley had waited to throw out the name, or how long he'd taken to come up with it. An awkward silence hung over the three, and out of the corner of his eye Andrew saw Miranda's face falling into her hand.

"That's…" Andrew was only able to get out one word.

Bradley cocked his head. "Cool?"

"I was going to say _corny_ , but it's your invention." Andrew didn't see any point in playing coy.

Bradley's face fell and he shrugged half-heartedly. "Oh, well. Can't please everyone. Anyway, I invented this thing a few years ago, after I'd gathered enough files that even _I_ couldn't keep track of it all." He scanned the pulsing column up and down until he found what he was apparently looking for, and gave one of the countless disks a tap.

"There we are."

All at once the A.R.C. froze in place. The rows of data disks were now perfectly vertical, and the glow began to center on the file Bradley had selected. Then, with a sound similar to the opening of his secret door the disk lit up and a holographic image started to materialize in front of them.

"That Dark Beacon you mentioned rang a bell," Bradley said as the image finished assembling. It was a group of humanoid figures standing in a circle around what looked like an obelisk of sorts. The groups' heads were bowed, and at second glance Andrew spotted one more person. This one was standing in front of the object with its arms spread.

Gesturing towards the image Bradley continued.

"On my last research project, I took a trip to the Attican Traverse, looking for something to add to Cerberus' studies on the Protheans. My crew caught a strong signal, and was led to an asteroid where we found an old carving and a text accompanying it.

It talked about this old piece of technology called the Dark Beacon. A device not unlike the beacons Protheans used to store and pass down knowledge to others. But this object was unique, in that it granted a recipient more than just that."

"More?" Miranda squinted at the projection intently.

"Yeah," Bradley answered with an enthusiastic nod. "A lot more. Whoever could withstand the transformation process would be imbued with a modification of their body's cells. They would have the ability to interface with almost any technology relayed to dark energy and mass effect fields. The subject would be stronger, faster and more intelligent. He could manipulate dark energy signatures like biotics. But at a lever much stronger than most.

Even physical harm would be just an afterthought, as the subject would regenerate from almost any injury."

Andrew listened to his story with rapt attention. He thought of the Prothean dig on Mars, and how much that discovery alone had changed everything for his race. If this thing was real the Illusive Man would have to hear about it. Something like the Dark Beacon could be a useful tool in the right hands.

 _No wonder Drak'har and his thugs want it._

"That's one hell of a presentation," Miranda said as Bradley closed out the image. "But how do we know this thing actually exists?"

Bradley scratched his chin. "There's the problem. We don't. The text we got was damaged, and anything related to the Dark Beacon's location or when it was built was lost."

"So, this whole thing could just be some story." Miranda appeared disappointed. She had obviously been thinking of the importance of such an artifact just as much as Andrew had. "The Dark Beacon could have been just a myth for the Protheans. Like the Holy Grail for humans."

Bradley's eyes widened and he raised a finger angrily. "Hey! You don't know that, there's still new finds being uncovered on Earth all the time!"

Not wanting any distraction Andrew waved his hand and shouted, "Okay, let's assume this thing _is_ real for a second. How do we find any other details on it? Where in the traverse did you find the carvings?"

"The Shadow Sea," Bradley answered, "Found the asteroid floating past the Omega Nebula."

"Not too far off from the Terminus systems." Andrew gave Miranda an urgent look. "If the batarians also know about this thing, then there had to be something more to it than just a story floating around on some rock in space."

After some obvious deliberation on her part Miranda pulled up her omni-tool to save the information. "Not exactly much room to argue there," she said flatly. "If you're right, and there's even a _chance_ the Dark Beacon is real, we should at least find more info on it. Come with us, Bradley." She walked to the door leading back into the hallway and beckoned for Andrew to come with her.

"Come on," she said. "We need to send this data to the Illusive Man, maybe we'll know what to do then."

Andrew held back a smile. When Miranda said they would need to trust each other going forward, she'd clearly meant it. Andrew would be lying if he said he wasn't touched.

They walked back into the bookstore, where a volus customer was waiting. "Good day to each of you, Earth-clan!"

"Afternoon!" Bradley greeted the alien with a friendly smile and glanced back at Andrew and Miranda. "I'll be in touch. Let me know if you find anything else on this, uh, text of ours." He emphasized the last part with a raising of the eyebrows.

"We will," Miranda told him.

When she and Andrew were out of the store they waited underneath the building's overhang, watching the downpour outside continue. Andrew took one more look back at Bradley, who was engaging the volus in what was clearly an exciting chat about whatever book the alien was currently holding. He locked eyes with Miranda again and laughed nervously at her cold expression.

"So…" Andrew tried to find the right words to describe the man. "He's… not really what I expected."

"Oh, don't waste time trying to be polite," Miranda bleated. "He's insufferable. Like some child who's read an entire library and thinks he knows everything there is to know, and he'll try to tell you so _every chance he gets!_ "

Miranda sounded almost petulant. Thinking of how aloof Miranda came across at times and how proud she was of her skills Andrew rolled his eyes. She noticed right away and glared at him. "What?"

"Nothing." Andrew shrugged innocently. "Just wondering if you're being, I don't know, just a bit insecure?"

The look of indignation on Miranda's face quickly gave way to outrage. "Insecure?! What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She advanced on him enough to make him take a step back in alarm. It was actually quite funny to see her so annoyed but Andrew had a feeling provoking her any further would be a serious mistake.

"I'll admit, Bradley seems pretty obnoxious. But it comes across like you're used to being the smartest person in the room, and you don't know how to handle somebody else knowing who could go toe to toe with you that way." He paused, thinking of Miranda's first exchange with Bradley upon entering his store.

"And it seemed like you had some history there."

Miranda stopped advancing towards him and remained in place for a moment before she let out a frustrated sigh. "I can assure you, Andrew, I have nothing to be insecure about. And as for that _history_ , I know what you're probably thinking." She made a face that looked like she was about to gag.

"Bradley Evans is a bit of a flirt, and not a good one. The first time we met, he made some rather in appropriate remarks. And he managed to provoke me." Her eyes dropped, and she added, "He's never going to let me forget it, the bastard."

"I know the feeling." Andrew couldn't help thinking of past friends and coworkers who'd enjoyed giving him a ribbing or two.

Miranda shook her head and shrugged. "I'm only human, Andrew. We all make mistakes…"

They exchanged sheepish grins, and fell silent for a minute. It was only when he felt a large drop fall into his eye that Andrew realized they were in the rain. He swore under his breath and shook several more drops from out of his hair, laughing again in embarrassment.

"Shit, uh Miranda? Can we…?"

"Right," his superior said and rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably. "We should get out of here." Noticing several skycars passing she activated her omni-tool and yelled out for a taxi.

* * *

Bradley scanned the label before handing it to the volus and saying cheerfully, "Hope you enjoy the read. Stephen King's always a nice read."

"Thank you, earth-clan!"

The volus waddled off, and Bradley looked out the window just in time to see Miranda and her new friend going off into a taxi. Andrew had already made a fine impression, and Bradley sense a similar passion for old history in the older man.

Miranda also seemed rather fond of him, Bradley though with a smile. He couldn't remember the last time she had worked with someone as easily as she did today.

His smile faded however, as Bradley spotted something pass by. Two men clad in armor, with heavy shotguns strapped to their backs. One of them turned around to scan the area, and Bradley saw the man had four large black eyes.

He remembered the report sent by Miranda, and her partner's mention of batarians.

One of the brutish looking aliens pointed in the direction of their skycar. Seconds later they followed, calling for a car of their own. Bradley's stomach dropped. He knew exactly what those they were planning. Andrew had been absolutely right.

 _Everyone_ was after this old beacon. And some of them were going to die for it.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Been on a bit of an Indiana Jones and Dan Brown binge lately. Probably affected my writing a bit.**

 **Now we at least know some of the story of this Dark Beacon. But our duo still have no idea where it came from, who made it, or its true purpose. And they're already being trailed.**

 **On the subject of new characters, I'm proud to have introduced Bradley Evans to our cast, and I've started to assign actors as a model for his appearance as well as the other characters.**

 **Just for a recap:**

 **Andrew Hudson is modeled after Viggo Mortensen, and his sister Jolene after Jenna-Louise Coleman.**

 **Cerberus sergeant Iver is patterned after David O'Hara.**

 **Joanie Jackson is based on Cynthia Addai-Robinson.**

 **And our newest addition, Bradley Evans, is modeled after the always awesome Nathan Fillion. Particularly his hilarious turn as Rick Castle in, well, 'Castle'.**

 **Next time, Andrew and Miranda will be up to their necks in trouble as their batarian pursuers catch up with them. And the race for the Dark Beacon will heat up something fierce.**


	21. Home Invasion

By the time they reached their rented-out apartment it was nighttime, both were soaked. Andrew threw off his jacket and tossed carelessly towards the laundry room. Right now, all that mattered to him was getting into clothes that didn't weigh him down while also freezing him.

"Turn that heater on please," Andrew said over the chattering of his own teeth. "I'd rather not survive encounters with batarians and Blue Suns mercs just to die of a common fucking cold."

Miranda was way ahead of him, and he was barely done before a blast of warm air hit him from a vent in the nearby wall. Letting out a sigh he removed his shirt next, letting his bare skin take in the heat. "Get me a sweater from the closet, will you?" he called out.

In the next room Miranda's muffled voice answered, " _Sure. Just give me a moment. I'm getting the shower ready._ "

Andrew took off the rest of his clothes and put on a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt before walking over to Miranda's room. Rapping his knuckles on the door gently he asked, "Can I come in? The heater's helping, but I think I'll be needing that sweater anyway." There was a rustling on the other side of the door before it slid open and Andrew eyes widened.

Miranda leaned against the doorframe, holding up a thick grey sweater to Andrew with a smile. But what caught Andrew's attention was what she was wearing. Or rather what she _wasn't_ wearing, as his superior was dressed in nothing but a towel. "Here you go," Miranda said as casually as if she was still wearing her suit.

Looking away as his ears burned and his stomach did backflips Andrew took the sweater with a flat, "Thank you." He heard

His embarrassment must have been obvious, as Miranda cocked her head to the side and scoffed. "You're not that embarrassed, are you Andrew?" When he still refused to look back at her Miranda added, "It's not like what I usually wear is much better."

Andrew cracked a smile at the joke despite his best efforts. "You got me there," he replied and finally looked back at Miranda, managing eye contact this time. "I'll make sure to leave some clothes out after the shower, unless you have another set of _what you usually wear_."

Pausing briefly, he then asked, "Why do you wear those suits anyway? Don't you think wearing some armor out on a mission once or twice might help more than just spandex."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "My biotics provide all the protection I need. And besides, my suits are lined with light armoring without weighing me down. I don't care if some people are sad enough to ogle, what I find comfortable and convenient isn't any of their business."

"You're certainly not ashamed," Andrew quipped and gestured up and down.

Miranda leaned in and gave him a devilish smirk. "Oh? Is there something _to_ be ashamed of?"

Andrew blinked in surprise. Did Miranda just flirt with him? Or was she just being her usual manipulative self for laughs?

The two stood in an awkward silence before Andrew turned on his heel and stuffed himself into the sweater, griping, "Enjoy the shower. Try to hope I'm feeling generous and don't mess with the temperature." Behind him, he could have sworn he heard Miranda stifling a laugh.

Once he was back in the living room he sat down on the couch, switching on the TV. He and Miranda had grown more comfortable with each other, sure, but he wasn't quite sure if he was ready for whatever had just happened. They were partners.

That was all.

Flipping through the channels Andrew eventually landed on the Alliance News Network, where an aged soldier bearing impressive facial scars and an iron-grey beard spoke to an audience of gathered reporters.

"While we cannot say for certain, intelligence suggests that recent sightings of pirates and other criminals on the outskirts of the Skyllian Verge may be the signs of a large-scale effort by forces outside of Alliance space. Their suspected goal is to impede Alliance expansion and colonization."

Andrew slouched back into his seat, narrowing his eyes as Admiral Steven Hackett continued to elaborate on the signs of a possible incoming raid against human colonies. It was hard for Andrew to admit it, but Hackett was by all signs a much stronger leader than the others in Alliance brass. Even if his hands were tied by politics the old soldier seemed perfectly willing to fight back if humanity was threatened. More than that, his accomplishments spoke for themselves.

If he had been in charge at Mindoir, perhaps things would have been different.

When Hackett's conference drew to a close Andrew picked up the remote to switch off the monitor. But just as his thumb started to press down on the button he saw a large shadow move past the window. He heard the revving of an engine over the apartment's roof, before the sound faded and all that was left was the patter of the rain.

Still holding the TV remote in his hand Andrew stayed rooted on the spot. He and Miranda hadn't been expecting any guests, and if they had said visitors would have stopped at the front door.

His omni-tool buzzed, causing the still-frozen Andrew to jump in place. His grip loosened on the TV remote, almost dropping it. Turning on the omni-tool he scanned the windows again, keeping his ears trained to hear any sign of movement from the roof.

"Who is this?"

" _Hudson, this is Bradley._ " The archivist sounded stressed and out of breath. " _Two batarian mercs are coming your way, both armed. I'm on my way over but I won't be there in time to stop them._ "

Andrew nodded, his body tensing up. "Thanks. Just get here as soon as you can, we'll handle them."

" _Be careful._ "

Andrew shut off the omni-tool and raced to the laundry room, where he had left his gun. The pistol was already fully loaded, and with a click Andrew turned the safety off. As quickly as he'd come in for the gun he ran to Miranda's room, where he could still hear the water running. There wasn't any time to worry about embarrassment now.

"Miranda!"

The water switched off, and Andrew heard Miranda's footsteps moving quickly towards the door. Before it was even open he shouted, "Two batarians, out-"

He wasn't able to finish. At the end of the hallway from his and Miranda's shared bedroom, the window was shattered by a loud shotgun blast. The wall next to Andrew was caved in, the bullets missing him by mere inches.

Andrew reeled away from the door, firing off a shot at the open window. Whether or not he hit his target he couldn't see. A small cylindrical object dropped into the hallway, landing almost ten feet away from where Andrew was standing.

All at once Andrew's vision was lit up like he was looking at the sun and an earsplitting bang brought his hands up to his ears in pain. _Flashbang grenade,_ he thought. How could he not have seen that coming?

Disoriented as he was, Andrew forced his eyes open he could barely make out the shape of the door to Miranda's room. In a second or two one of those batarians was going to come through that window and finish Andrew off, and he wasn't in any mood to just sit here and wait for it to happen.

Staggering upwards he fell onto his knee for a moment, bracing himself for a jump. It was difficult to tell, but Andrew thought he could see Miranda's door open by just inches. _Going to have to time this right, or I'm dead._

Andrew leapt forward as fast and as hard as he could, bracing his arms out in front of him as he collided with the door. With another loud crash he tumbled across the bedroom floor, headlong into his own dresser.

" _Ungh…_ " Shaking off the pain from the collision he raised the pistol again and looked back into the hallway. The door was thrown wide open, and the one of batarian's shadows was quickly moving closer. Andrew blinked furiously to try and clear his vision, but he knew he wouldn't be focused in time to land any solid shot.

"Get down," he heard from behind him. Miranda's voice was hard and almost frighteningly intense, and he saw the entire room light up in a blue glow.

He ducked to the floor in time for Miranda to send a blindingly fast bolt of dark energy against the batarian, who was just emerging into view along with his companion. The armored alien's shields visible distorted around him, and he was slammed into the wall hard enough to crack it open. Miranda was hardly finished, and seconds later the batarian crumpled to the floor in a bloody heap headfirst.

The second had been thrown onto his side with an audible crunch, and was trying to crawl to his fallen weapon. Miranda released the merc from her grasp and yelled, "Finish him off!"

Andrew's balance had come back during her thrashing of the alien, and he had already taken aim. A shot between the batarian's eyes sent the back of his head spraying out messily, and the alien grew limp.

The two stood there for a moment, both still breathing heavily from the brief shootout. "Are you alright?" Miranda asked finally, her voice sounding hoarse.

"Yeah," Andrew answered. "Thanks."

He was about to looked back at Miranda when he saw one of the batarians' fingers twitch. A light went off on his gauntlet, and outside the window of their room Andrew heard a loud clicking sound.

"Oh, shi…"

Squeezing his eyes shut Andrew wrapped his arm around Miranda's shoulders and pulled her to the floor, huddling against the massive bed. Half a second later, the outside wall of their apartment exploded.

* * *

When Miranda came to her senses the first thing she saw in front of her was a blurry mass of red. She shook her head to regain her focus, but regretted it instantly as a dull and painful throbbing caused her to wince and let out an agonized groan.

"Andrew…" she rasped. Clutching the sides of her head for half a minute Miranda took several long and measured breaths. When she felt like she could look around without growing dizzy again, she straightened up and opened her eyes.

The bedroom she'd rented out with Andrew was blasted open, with most of the wall missing and the ceiling having caved in. Shards of glass were scattered everywhere, and even a chunk of the ceiling was missing. Torrents of rain showered through the openings and Miranda felt several drops blow in her direction, wiping a smear of water and dust from her forehead.

Wincing at a jab of pain Miranda pulled her hand back and saw blood smearing her palm. It wasn't much, meaning that her temporal artery was still safe. Looking down at her body she saw the towel she'd covered herself with was ripped and dusty, with several more light cuts across her arms and left leg. They hurt when Miranda examined them, but the bleeding wasn't serious.

 _So what was it I saw?_

Miranda sat there in confusion for a moment, before her eyes widened and she remembered what happened. She whipped her head back down to look at her partner, who was still lying next to her, and gasped.

Andrew was lying on his side, unconscious. His back was burned badly, and two jagged pieces of glass were protruding from between his shoulder blades.

"No!" Miranda lifted up Andrew's head and felt for a pulse frantically, forcing her arm to stop shaking. The pulse was there, and Miranda let out a shaky breath. "Damn it, why did you have to be a hero _now,_ you stupid bastard?"

Getting on one knee, she swept any debris from the bed covers while glancing outside. If these batarians had followed her and Andrew here, then they knew Cerberus was tracking their operation. It had to be the same ring looking for the Dark Beacon, Miranda thought, otherwise they wouldn't try something this drastic.

Miranda picked the still-prone Andrew up and dropped him on the bed, keeping his wounded back exposed. She ran her fingers through her hair anxiously, scanning the damage. The burns on Andrew's back were second-degree, and the cuts from the explosion had already caused him to bleed significantly.

Running back to her closet Miranda retrieved her on-mission utility belt and tore out a package of medic-gel. It wouldn't be enough to treat Andrew's wounds fully, but it could keep him safe until she got him to a proper medic.

Miranda rushed back to Andrew's side and went to work. Removing the pieces of glass delicately she opened the medi-gel pack and applied every ounce of it, sealing the wounds before they could bleed out any further. Andrew's face tightened, and Miranda sighed in relief.

 _This will hold for now. It_ has _to._

A skycar's headlights flew past the opening in the wall, and Miranda reflexively raised a hand to pelt it with a biotic blast. But the door to the vehicle flew open and a panicked voice yelled out, "Don't shoot, it's me!"

"Bradley…" For once, Miranda was truly happy to see him. "Park that damn thing and help me out here!"

* * *

The steady beeping of Andrew's heart monitor rang in Miranda's ears even as she listened to Bradley confer with Iver over a comm-link. It took only five minutes for them to fly Andrew to a hospital, but from Miranda was standing it had felt a good deal longer. The hospitals on Illium were of course top-notch, if one could afford their care.

An asari nurse walked into the ER room wearing a reassuring smile, and Miranda stood up perhaps a bit quicker than she meant to. "Is everything going to be alright?"

"Yes, Mrs. Danvers," the nurse replied. "Your husband is expected to make a full recovery. But I wouldn't recommend expecting him to wake up just yet. Between what's likely a concussion, second-degree burns and substantial blood loss Mr. Danvers will likely remain in here for at least two more days."

Miranda gave her a grateful nod and murmured, "Thank you."

"Of course. Just let us know when you're ready to go, and I'll see you out."

When the nurse was safely gone, Miranda directed her attention to Bradley. "Anything?"

"Not much." Bradley sounded exhausted as he closed the comm-link. "Iver said that local law enforcement traced the batarians' car to a lounge near the Nos Astra exchange. But they couldn't find anyone able to identify them."

"Damn it…"

Miranda's eyes glanced briefly at Andrew before focusing back on the task at hand. "We're not law enforcement."

Bradley cocked his head. "And what exactly does _that_ mean?"

"It means exactly what you think," she snapped and gestured for him to follow her. "We're going to this lounge and we're going to ask some questions of our own."

Bradley smiled in excitement. "Ah. Okay then, I'm game."

The two stepped out of Andrew's room and Miranda signaled the nurse. "Thank you for everything," she said, "We're ready to go."

Miranda and Bradley left the hospital quickly and quietly. Outside it had finally stopped raining, but Nos Astra was still glistening light a garish Christmas display. Miranda had her doubts about leaving Andrew alone for the rest of the night, and it clearly showed as Bradley leaned into her field of vision and asked, "You gonna be okay?"

"Yes," she said deftly.

She wasn't really lying to him. If they found who was responsible for Andrew's current state and dealt with them, Miranda would indeed be fine.

Miranda suddenly caught herself, and stepped back involuntarily. What was she doing? Was she actually getting emotional over this?

Thinking of the past several weeks as Andrew's superior and then his partner in the field, Miranda tried to rationalize how she was feeling. Andrew had proven a reliable agent thus far, and trustworthy. It only made sense she respected him already, something not many earned in such a short time.

Miranda admired his drive, and sympathized with his plight more than he knew. One day she hoped to tell him just how much.

He was her friend, her partner. That was all.

 _Then why flirt with him? Why let him get close at all?_

Shaking her head Miranda berated herself for getting so easily distracted. She had to approach this professionally, otherwise her and Andrew's attackers could take them by surprise again. Andrew was taken care of, and she had a job to do.

"So, this lounge." Miranda kept her tone level as she walked to her car. "Does it have a name, Bradley?"

"Yeah it does," he answered. "It's called Eternity."

* * *

 **Author's Note: The life of an agent isn't risk-free. Andrew may suffer many more scars by the time this is all over.**

 **Miranda is an ice-queen, but as we've seen she is as human as anyone else in Mass Effect. And soon we will see perhaps even more of this side than we did even in the games.**

 **Next time Miranda's investigation picks up an important lead. And even at the hospital, Andrew will be far from safe.**


	22. Blood in the Streets

Eternity was not what Miranda was expecting. It was elegant and welcoming in appearance, with a public lounge that suited a fancy hotel more than just a bar. Of course, the fact that there actually was a hotel on the next level sealed the deal. The first rays of morning light reaching through

"Okay," Miranda breathed. Scanning the area, she took a note of everyone there. A salarian and a turian sitting in a corner, discussing some business Miranda didn't care to pry into. At the bar was a human man, slumped over the counter in a drunken stupor opposite an asari bartender.

There were no batarians. But if the ones who wounded Andrew had talked with anyone here and let any clues to their plans slip, it was a start.

"Let's start with the asari," Bradley suggested.

As Bradley went to sit out at the lounge, Miranda walked casually to the bar, relaxing against the counter. "Good morning. What do we have today?"

"Good morning to you too," the bartender said in a husky voice. "We've got liquor and wine on tab today. What'll it be?" Her bearing and mature appearance surprised Miranda. She'd expected someone like a maiden to be serving a bar, but this asari couldn't have been any younger than a Matron.

The bartender raised her eyebrows. "You okay, babe?"

Miranda realized she was staring and snapped back to attention. "Sorry. I'll take liquor." She looked glanced at the drunk patron sitting nearby, who was now beginning to snore.

"So what happened to our friend here?"

"Lost a huge bet. He said it would take about a whole hour for an elcor to recite the final act of Macbeth." The asari chuckled. "Lasted three times longer than that. Goddess, I don't think I've ever seen an audience so _bored._ I don't know who Francis Kitt is, but that guy needs to find a new career fast."

The asari's blasé attitude was something else Miranda didn't expect. "I thought most asari were mad about the arts," she remarked and took a sip of liquor as it slid across the counter to her.

"I'm not most asari," the bartender fired back with a wry smile. She bored her eyes into Miranda's, and when the younger human finally cracked and smiled back she added, "The name's Aethyta," and extended a hand cordially. "Matriarch Aethyta."

"Danvers." Miranda took the handshake. "I'll admit, I'm surprised to see a Matriarch out here doing small business. But you seem content, so who am I to judge?" Miranda tried to think of a way to bring up Greyon Drak'har's agents and looked back at the various patrons. "Place seems to be getting some good service."

She finished surveying and asked the Matriarch, "I was wondering if you could help me find someone. A couple of batarians passed by here. I've got a friend doing business with them, and I was worried on how things were going. Want to make sure he hasn't gotten in over his head."

Aethyta's eyes rolled up and she cocked her head to one side. "A couple of batarians. Gee, that's pretty specific, I'm sure I've got it…"

The sarcastic display caused Miranda to groan in annoyance. Apparently, subtlety wasn't going to get her anywhere with this one. "Alright. They looked like a couple of mercenaries. Big, armored, lots of guns. They were here just last night."

"Right, now _that's_ more like it," Aethyta said. She poured through an omni-tool and nodded after scrolling for half a minute. "Yep, two batarians. Ugly ones too, their eyes were way too far apart for my tastes. Had a drink or two, then drove off towards some of the apartment buildings just a block away."

Miranda's foot was tapping excitedly. Aethyta had a good memory when she was pointed in the right direction. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

"So, you know where they were going. Do you know where they came _from_?"

Aethyta furrowed her brow and replied, "Not really. They sort of showed up out of nowhere."

 _Damn_.

"These folks your friend's in business with," Aethyta continued, "They don't sound very friendly. If they've got a couple of thugs going out and doing their dirty work for them." Her tone suggested that this was something she had seen before.

"You don't have to play coy, kid. I know your type. You're on the hunt."

Miranda felt humiliated. She knew virtually nothing about Aethyta, but already the asari had her dead-to-rights. "Point taken," she said through gritted teeth. "If you know that these people are dangerous, and not to be trusted, then you don't have any reason to keep me from finding them."

"No, I guess I don't," Aethyta said. "May I ask who they are?"

Miranda was about to answer when the door to Eternity opened behind her, and a trio consisting of a turian, a human woman, and a batarian. All were clad in black armor, armed to the teeth and looked ready for a fight.

"A batarian, a human and a turian walk into a bar," Aethyta drawled. "I feel a joke coming on." Her eyes flew towards Miranda and the older asari asked, "I guess there's no chance you could draw those folks outside, is there?"

Knowing Aethyta wasn't likely to be easily fooled Miranda shook her head. "I'm afraid not." She waved her finger around the bar shelves behind Aethyta and asked a question of her own. "If I could stay out of their way long enough, perhaps you can give them something _special_ in whatever they have to drink? I'm sure you have something extra for rowdy customers."

The Matriarch grinned devilishly. "I've got just the thing. Keep those boys occupied while I whip it up."

Miranda shared a thankful smile with Aethyta and signaled Bradley to stay alert. He leaned back in his lounge chair and winked at her before training his gaze on the trio navigating across the bar. The turian appeared to be the leader, an imposing alien with pitch black skin and violet facial markings. He swiveled his head around before directing the woman and the batarian to the lounge.

With his companions moving off the intimidating alien walked to the bar counter. Thinking quickly Miranda gave her liquor glass a light nudge, keeping her eyes staring ahead until it hit the floor and smashed against the turian's boot.

"Oh my god," she shouted as convincingly as she could, "I'm so sorry!"

The turian, who carried himself more like an enforcer than a simple gun-for-hire, had jumped in place before turning rigid once more when he looked down at the alcohol and glass shards across his clawed foot. "Damn, a waste of fine liquor," he said flatly.

"I know, I'm so sorry." Miranda repeated. Keeping up the same southern accent she'd used for her and Andrew's taxi driver she took a nearby napkin to dab away at whatever liquor was on the counter and said to Aethyta, "Don't you worry, ma'am, I'll have this cleaned up right away!"

It looked like the left corner of Aethyta's lip was twitching. She was obviously trying very hard not to laugh at the embarrassing display.

"No matter," the enforcer said. His pale eyes looked Miranda over twice. "My name is Krassus. My friends and I came to have a word with you." He curled his clawed hand and pointed to Bradley. "And your friend the bookkeeper."

Miranda feigned confusion. "Really? Is there something wrong?"

"That depends entirely on you." Krassus's voice grew low. It was steady and calm, but there was an underlying menace to it that had Miranda transfixed.

"My associates and I have been busy for a while now. We've got this big project we've been working on, and we're getting damn close to getting our hands on something the boss has wanted for years."

Drumming her fingers against the bar Miranda curled her lip in mock bemusement. Krassus was anything but subtle. "Ooh, sounds exciting!"

"Yeah, but lately there's been some setbacks. Things nearly went haywire for us on Horizon, competition's sure not making it easy for us." Krassus narrowed his eyes. "And last night, I heard things finally got messy. So here I am, seeing the competition for myself."

Miranda's fingers clenched into a tight ball and she returned the turian's glare in full. "Your thoughts?"

As she spoke, Miranda slowly let the fake accent drop, knowing she had no need of it. Even if Krassus didn't know exactly who she was working for or why she had interfered in his and Drak'har's plots, she saw little point in playing a part for him.

"I think you people need to reconsider you line of work," Krassus shot back. "What we're looking for will change the face of the galaxy as we know it, and if you get in our way…"

Miranda rolled her eyes as she cut him off. "Let me guess; We're meddling with forces beyond our human comprehension, we're going to learn our rightful place, and all that. Please spare me the rambling. I know what you're looking for, and I can guess what you're planning to do with it."

"So you know you should walk away while you still can."

"Excuse me," Aethyta piped in. "If you kids are going to get rowdy, best to do it outside. I just cleaned the place up from some overenthusiastic bachelor party." She slid two new glasses to them, and her dark eyes met Miranda's.

"Thank you," Miranda said and down the glass in one gulp, not taking her eyes off Krassus for a second. She remained stone-faced despite the bitter taste, and slammed her glass down in a way that was almost challenging to the turian, daring him to try and outdo her.

Krassus was unnaturally still, watching her with an icy stare before downing his own glass as well. "Let your friend in the lounge know that we're watching," he said. "We know better than to start a fight in a place like this, but as soon as the two of you are outside, you're as good as dead."

He turned on his clawed heel and marched off. The human woman and batarian followed in turn. When they were gone Miranda allowed herself to relax. "Aethyta," she said rigidly, "How long until that extra treat in his drink sets it? I can't imagine Krassus will give us much time to run when we leave."

"About half a minute," Aethyta answered. "I'm not going to pry too deeply, but just for future reference…" She tilted her head down squinted at Miranda meaningfully. "I don't know who you are, but you're going to do serious business, Eternity's not the place for it. I've got a nice little business going for me here, and I'd rather not have somebody blow it up. This isn't Omega."

Miranda sighed. "You listened to every word, didn't you?"

"Yep."

As she planted her face in her hand irritably Bradley approached from behind. "These folks sure mean business. Gave me this corny speech about the galaxy changing, world-changing stuff. You?"

"Same." Miranda kept her eyes trained towards the door to outside, and checked the clock on her omni-tool. Half a minute had passed already. She clutched the gun holstered at her thigh and started for the exit. "Thanks for the help," she said to Aethyta. "Sorry we almost caused your place trouble."

"That's fine," the asari said as they left. "Feel free to come on back, just make sure you've got a friendlier crowd next time!"

Eternity's door slid open with a hiss, and Miranda had one foot out when she heard an awful retching sound. It didn't take two guesses for her to know who it was. "Looks like the asari's little trick worked."

"So, we got some face to face with Drak'har's people. What now?" Bradley sounded ready for action.

Miranda shared the feeling, opening a biotic field around herself and reaching for her pistol. "We won't have much time to get into a gunfight before law enforcement shows up. If we can snatch Krassus or his omni-tool, we can use…"

As she rounded the corner to the plaza outside, Miranda stopped dead in her tracks. Krassus was bent over, leaning against one of his guards. He looked like he was wavering in and out of consciousness, and his front was covered in vomit. It was a truly awful sight. But that was not what had Miranda so alarmed.

Lined around the entire plaza were rows of black-clad batarian pirates and Blue Suns mercs.

* * *

 **Play this:** watch?v=AGMwmY_RaRI

 **"Ready Steady Go", it'll help the mood**

* * *

Miranda whipped her head around. How the hell did they turn up so fast?

"Shit."

One of them, a reedy-looking batarian with awful burn scars, spotted her and hoisted a SMG in a flash. "There!"

Miranda threw up a Barrier just in time to catch half a dozen bullets before they tore into her and Bradley. Clenching her hand tight she focused the dark energy back around her before casting it forward in a wave towards the crowd of enemies, hitting several hard enough to send them flipping back into the air.

"RUN!"

Bradley and Miranda broke into a run, sprinting away as the plaza erupted into a chaotic haze of bullets. Any chance for reconnaissance or gathering intel of any kind was gone, all that mattered now was getting out of the Nos Astra exchange alive.

Unfortunately, as a shot from what sounded like a sniper rifle whizzed across Miranda's hair she knew she had absolutely no idea how she and Bradley were going to do that. They reached an open row of trade kiosks, next to a balcony overlooking the city beyond. "Bradley," she panted, "What's the fastest route to the parking garage?"

"Past that last kiosk," he bellowed. "There's a stairwell that leads right down a whole level!"

The two rushed past a trade kiosk, and Miranda shoved an asari broker out of the way of another bullet. Forgetting her training she raised her voice and yelled to the gathered merchants and customers, "Get out of here!"

Everyone was already ducking for cover or breaking into a run as more batarians and Blue Suns poured after them like a pack of hounds. Miranda swore when she realized it only left her more open and lobbed a Shockwave over the heads of the ducking bystanders.

A glass display exploded in the face of what looked like the leader of the Blue Suns troop, a balding man towering at six feet tall. His shields kept his face from being shredded, but the man flew off to the side.

"Here!" Bradley practically leapt into a stairway to their right, and in her hurry Miranda almost missed it. Her heeled boots skidded across the smooth concrete under her, and the Cerberus agent dropped to a knee and fired at the approaching horde.

One batarian's head burst open and another was staggered from the shields at his left shield faltering. The rest faltered momentarily. This was all the time Miranda needed, and she rolled into the stairwell fast enough to dodge their retaliatory fire.

"Let's move."

Bradley held up a finger. "Just a second." He opened his coat and pulled a disk-like object from his belt. Slamming it against the wall, he pressed down on a button in the center. "Just for the ones who follow us down this way," he said and gave Miranda a wink.

Miranda allowed herself to smile at the clever move. Bradley didn't often see field action, but when he did, he always made good use of his traps.

While Bradley slid along the railways of the stairs Miranda leapt headlong towards the ground. Her biotics shielded her from the brunt of the fall, and several seconds later Bradley reached her level.

"Showoff," he snarked at her.

They ran outside while a multitude of voices filled the stairwell. Not to be outdone Bradley flipped his omni-tool out and triggered the ordinance he'd left behind. There was loud _BOOM_ and a cloud of dust and rubble flew out towards them. As the dust cleared, Miranda saw red and blue stains scattered everywhere.

Bradley buttoned his coat back up smugly. "That takes care of _that_ little problem."

But as he turned to go a black object tumbled from out of the stairwell and hit his foot. Bradley took one look at it before leaping backwards like a frightened cat. " _Aah!_ "

Miranda scoffed. "It's just an arm," she said and moved to kick it away. But her eyes locked onto a small object strapped around the disembodied hand. Just below the wrist, an omni-tool was attacked. Despite the arm on which it was attached being scorched, the device itself looked largely intact.

"Hey," Bradley said, snapping her out of it, "We have to go. It won't be long before the rest of them follow us down here!"

A loud beeping signaled Miranda to their skycar, which was less than twenty feet away.

She looked back and forth between the arm, then the car, then back to the arm and the omni-tool attached to it.

"We came for a lead, and now we've got one."

Andrew felt a faint buzzing in his head when he opened his eyes. The bright light around him caused Andrew to cringe and cover his eyes in pain, the buzzing quickly turning to pain.

"Take it easy," a gentle voice said. "Let your eyes adjust to the light."

Whoever was speaking to him, Andrew decided to take her advice and opened his eyes slowly. Seated next to him was an asari dressed in a nurse's uniform, wearing a comforting smile. "Welcome back, Mr. Danvers."

"Danvers…" Andrew struggled to keep up as he remembered that he was, in fact, still undercover. A flood of memories came back to him, and it felt like a bolt of lightning was shot up his back. "The house! Where's…"

When he attempted to move up his chest and back convulsed in agony, and Andrew gave up from the shock.

"Your wife is fine," the nurse said as he trailed off. "We'll call her, let you know you've woken up."

Despite the pain Andrew forced himself into a sitting position and took in his surroundings. He was in a white, sterile-looking room complete with a heart-monitor reading off his vital signs and a window to his side with a view of Nos Astra that stretched on for miles.

"Whoah."

"I know," the nurse said. "We thought a view would make things nicer for our patients up here."

"Yeah." Andrew's mind went back to the attack on his and Miranda's apartment. "So I'm in here, I guess it has to be pretty bad right?"

"It is. Massive lacerations and resulting blood loss, and serious burns. Your wife did a good job of transporting you here safely, she handled herself very admirably."

Andrew allowed himself a smile. Of course she had.

"Listen, the people who attacked us, they were a group of batarians. Is there anything being done?"

The nurse nodded and kept him from straightening up too much. "Yes, Mr. Danvers. Law enforcement is doing anything they can. If you want us to keep you posted, I'll have reception pick up any updates we can."

Andrew wanted to push further, but he thought better of it. Any more prying and he could risk giving something away. "Thank you."

The nurse checked his monitor and gave him a clap on the arm. "Well, it looks like you're coming along nicely. But you're going to have to stay here for the time being until you're healed completely."

She left Andrew to rest, and he leaned back against his pillow with a resigned sigh. If his injuries were that serious, there was absolutely nothing he could do but get himself hurt even more. Besides, whatever Miranda and their contact Bradley were up to out there, they could take care of themselves.

 _Just worry about yourself, or you'll get blown up for real_.

He closed his eyes and tried with difficulty to go back to sleep.

Outside, two taxis parked at the front of the hospital below. Two humans came out dressed in heavy clothing, and tight beanie-style hats covering ther heads. One of them flinched as something on the back of his neck flickered directing him to the front door. Blankly and without a trace of emotion, the two men started forward.

A breeze caused one of their coats to billow upwards, and he quickly smoothed it down again.

Covering the wiring of a bomb.

* * *

 **Author's Note: G'day, everybody!**

 **Back with a Miranda-centric chapter this time around. A fun cameo from our favorite dirty old lady of the Mass Effect universe, Matriarch Aethyta to spice things up, and a good old-fashioned chase scene.**

 **Things are going full throttle in the hunt for the Beacon, and Andrew is about to have another fight on his hands.**

 **Next time around we'll be seeing a map, a deadly message, and Andrew and Miranda will both face bad blood from their pasts.**

 **Till then, enjoy your summers!**


End file.
